introduce  tfftiss  Constance 
to  your  acquaintance. 


•tsW/?S2SLSZ>y^!\ 

if 


j 


J_Jea-.  (r^  —       -u 
MOU>  d  c?o  nof-mcan  <so 
riay.  da  ma  tfcnrryz 

772a.ru/  ijeaitf  in. 

~          /E>  /?^\        1^   t?    •     S3       t"^?^ 

of  rncw'&uw  also  To  unfarm  Tnem., 
oa  a. 


corn^Urn^nrTJoa. 

r~  C/  ^  (P/ 

to  inform  iftefafflc,  ffi(^  jfrave 


C\ 


;  a.72.0  , 
.  eTfra 

.-Z-  /S'-^ 

:  -LI  our  mosf  Scncere  jrceno 

O'  </ 


ILLUSTRATIONS   IN   COLOUR 


ACT  II.     SCENE  I. 

HASTINGS.  Give  me  leave  to  introduce  Miss 

Constance   Neville    to    your 
acquaintance  .        Frontispiece 

ACT  I.     SCENE  I. 

Page 

MRS.  HARDCASTLE.  The  two  Miss  Hoggs         .  .  n 

HARDCASTLE.  When  I  went  to  make  a  bow,   I 

popt  my  bald  head  into  Mrs. 
Frizzle's  face  .  .  15 

MRS.  HARDCASTLE.  Won't  you  give  papa  and  me  a 

little  of  your  company,  lovee  ?  1 9 

Miss  HARDCASTLE.  My  dear  papa,  say  no  more  .  25 

Miss  HARDCASTLE.  Tell  me,  Constance  :  how  do  I  look 

this  evening?  .  .  29 

ACT  I.     SCENE  II. 

SECOND  FELLOW.       I  loves  to  hear  him  sing,  bekeays 

he   never  gives   us   nothing 
that 's  low      •••  35 

3 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

ACT  II.     SCENE  I. 

Page 

DIGGORY.  Then,  ecod,  your  worship  must  not 

tell  the  story  of  Old  Grouse 
in  the  gun-room         .  .  51 

HARDCASTLE.  Half  the  differences  of  the  parish 

are    adjusted    in    this    very 
parlour  .  .  .  61 

MARLOW.  Item,  a  pork  pie,  a  boiled  rabbit 

and  sausages,  and  a  dish  of 
tiff-taff-taffety  cream !  .  67 

HASTINGS.                  Miss  Neville,  by  all  that's  happy  !  .  73 

Miss  HARDCASTLE.  You  were  going  to  observe,  sir 79 

TONY.  What  do  you  follow  me  for,  Cousin 

Con?  ...  85 

MRS.  HARDCASTLE.   Back   to    back,    my   pretties,    that 

Mr.  Hastings  may  see  you   .  91 

TONY.  I  have  seen  her  and  sister  cry  over 

a  book  for  an  hour  together  97 

ACT  III.     SCENE  I. 

HARDCASTLE.  Well,   my  Kate,    I  see  you  have 

changed  your  dress,  as  I  bid 
you    ....          107 

TONY.  Say  they  're  lost,  and  call  me  to 

bear  witness  .  .  .          115 

4 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

ACT  III.     SCENE  I. 

Page 

Miss  HARDCASTLE.  Tell  me,  Pimple,  how  do  you  like 

my  present  dress  ?      .  .          123 

MARLOW.  Never  saw  a  more  sprightly,  mali- 

cious eye        .  .  .129 

MARLOW.  Keep  up  the  spirit  of  the  place      .         133 

ACT  IV.     SCENE  I. 

MARLOW.  By  Heaven,  she  weeps       .  .         151 

Miss  NEVILLE.          Who     can     help    admiring     that 

pleasant,  broad,  red,  thought- 
less  ah!   it's  a  bold  face         157 

MRS.  HARDCASTLE.  And  you,   you  great  ill-fashioned 

oaf    .  .  .  .165 

ACT  V.     SCENE  I. 

SIR  CHARLES.  And  how  did  he  behave,  madam?         179 

MARLOW.  Does  this  look  like  security  ?    Does 

this  look  like  confidence  ?      .          193 


DRAMATIS   PERSONS 

SIR  CHARLES  MARLOW. 

YOUNG  MARLOW,  his  Son. 

HARDCASTLE. 

HASTINGS. 

TONY  LUMPKIN. 

DIGGORY. 

MRS.   HARDCASTLE. 

Miss  HARDCASTLE. 

Miss  NEVILLE. 

MAID. 

Landlord,  Servants,   etc.  etc. 


SCENE   I 

A  chamber  in  an  old-fashioned  house. 
Enter  MRS.  HARDCASTLE  and  MR.  HARDCASTLE. 

MRS.  HARD.  I  vow,  Mr.  Hardcastle,  you're  very  par- 
ticular. Is  there  a  creature  in  the  whole  country, 
but  ourselves,  that  does  not  take  a  trip  to  town 
now  and  then  to  rub  off  the  rust  a  little  ?  There 's 
the  two  Miss  Hoggs,  and  our  neighbour  Mrs. 
Grigsby,  go  to  take  a  month's  polishing  every  winter. 

HARD.  Ay,  and  bring  back  vanity  and  affectation  to 
last  them  the  whole  year.  I  wonder  why  London 
cannot  keep  its  own  fools  at  home.  In  my  time,  the 
follies  of  the  town  crept  slowly  among  us,  but  now 
they  travel  faster  than  a  stage-coach.  Its  fopperies 
come  down,  not  only  as  inside  passengers,  but  in  the 
very  basket. 

MRS.  HARD.  Ay,  your  times  were  fine  times,  indeed ; 
you  have  been  telling  us  of  them  for  many  a  long 
year.  Here  we  live  in  an  old  rumbling  mansion,  that 
looks  for  all  the  world  like  an  inn,  but  that  we  never 
see  company.  Our  best  visitors  are  old  Mrs.  Oddfish, 
the  curate's  wife,  and  little  Cripplegate,  the  lame 
B  9 


<W 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

dancing-master ;  and  all  our  entertainment,  your  old 
stories  of  Prince  Eugene  and  the  Duke  of  Marl- 
borough.  I  hate  such  old-fashioned  trumpery. 

HARD.  And  I  love  it.  I  love  everything  that 's  old  : 
old  friends,  old  times,  old  manners,  old  books,  old 
wine  ;  and,  I  believe,  Dorothy  \Jaking  her  hand'], 
you  '11  own  I  have  been  pretty  fond  of  an  old  wife. 

MRS.  HARD.  Lord,  Mr.  Hardcastle,  you  're  for  ever  at 
your  Dorothys,  and  your  old  wives.  You  may  be  a 
Darby,  but  I  '11  be  no  Joan,  I  promise  you.  I  'm  not 
so  old  as  you  'd  make  me,  by  more  than  one  good 
year.  Add  twenty  to  twenty,  and  make  money  of 
that. 

HARD.  Let  me  see ;  twenty  added  to  twenty,  makes 
just  fifty  and  seven. 

MRS.  HARD.  It's  false,  Mr.  Hardcastle:  I  was  but 
twenty  when  Tony,  that  I  had  by  Mr.  Lumpkin,  my 
first  husband,  was  born  ;  and  he 's  not  come  to  years 
of  discretion  yet. 

HARD.  Nor  ever  will,  I  dare  answer  for  him.  Ay,  you 
have  taught  him  finely. 

MRS.  HARD.  No  matter,  Tony  Lumpkin  has  a  good 
fortune.  My  son  is  not  to  live  by  his  learning.  I 
don't  think  a  boy  wants  much  learning  to  spend 
fifteen  hundred  a  year. 

HARD.  Learning,  quotha!  A  mere  composition  of 
tricks  and  mischief. 

MRS.  HARD.  Humour,  my  dear :  nothing  but  humour. 
Come,  Mr.  Hardcastle,  you  must  allow  the  boy  a 
little  humour. 

13 


Q 


.  3 


UJfien  ^J went  to  make  a  6ou>,  z/  popt  my  6  aid  fie  ad 

Mo  yTlrs.  ct rizzle  s  face. 

ACT  1.    SCENE  1 


sc.  L]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

HARD.  I  'd  sooner  allow  him  a  horse-pond.  If  burning 
the  footman's  shoes,  frighting  the  maids,  worrying 
the  kittens — be  humour,  he  has  it.  It  was  but 
yesterday  he  fastened  my  wig  to  the  back  of  my  chair, 
and  when  I  went  to  make  a  bow,  I  popt  my  bald 
head  into  Mrs.  Frizzle's  face. 

MRS.  HARD.  And  am  I  to  blame  ?  The  poor  boy  was 
always  too  sickly  to  do  any  good.  A  school  would 
be  his  death.  When  he  comes  to  be  a  little  stronger, 
who  knows  what  a  year  or  two's  Latin  may  do  for  him? 

HARD.  Latin  for  him  !  A  cat  and  fiddle.  No,  no,  the 
ale-house  and  the  stable  are  the  only  schools  he'll 
ever  go  to. 

MRS.  HARD.  Well,  we  must  not  snub  the  poor  boy 
now,  for  I  believe  we  shan't  have  him  long  among 
us.  Anybody  that  looks  in  his  face  may  see  he's 
consumptive. 

HARD.  Ay,  if  growing  too  fat  be  one  of  the  symptoms. 

MRS.  HARD.  He  coughs  sometimes. 

HARD.  Yes,  when  his  liquor  goes  the  wrong  way. 

MRS.  HARD.  I  'm  actually  afraid  of  his  lungs. 

HARD.  And  truly  so  am  I ;  for  he  sometimes  whoops 
like  a  speaking  trumpet. — [TONY  hallooing  behind  the 
scenes^ — Oh,  there  he  goes — a  very  consumptive 
figure,  truly. 

Enter  TONY,  crossing  the  stage. 

MRS.  HARD.  Tony,  where  are  you  going,  my  charmer  ? 
Won't  you  give  papa  and  me  a  little  of  your  company, 
lovee  ? 

c  17 


vt 


CUon  t  you  yioe  papa  and  me  a  little 
of  your  company,  looee? 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

TONY.  I  'm  in  haste,  mother ;  I  cannot  stay. 

MRS.  HARD.  You  shan't  venture  out  this  raw  evening, 

my  dear ;  you  look  most  shockingly. 
TONY.   I  can't  stay,  I  tell  you.     The  Three  Pigeons 

expects  me  down  every  moment.     There 's  some  fun 

going  forward. 

HARD.  Ay ;  the  ale-house,  the  old  place :   I  thought  so. 
MRS.  HARD.  A  low,  paltry  set  of  fellows. 
TONY.  Not  so  low  neither.     There's   Dick   Muggins 

the  exciseman,  Jack   Slang  the   horse-doctor,  little 

Aminadab    that  grinds   the    music-box,   and    Tom 

Twist  that  spins  the  pewter  platter. 
MRS.  HARD.  Pray,  my  dear,  disappoint  them  for  one 

night  at  least. 
TONY.  As  for  disappointing  them,  I  should  not  so  much 

mind  ;  but  I  can't  abide  to  disappoint  myself. 
MRS.  HARD.  [Detaining  him.~\  You  shan't  go. 
TONY.  I  will,  I  tell  you. 
MRS.  HARD.  I  say  you  shan't. 
TONY.  We  '11  see  which  is  the  strongest,  you  or  1 1 

\Exit,  hauling  her  out. 

HARDCASTLE,  solus. 

HARD.  Ay,  there  goes  a  pair  that  only  spoil  each  other. 
But  is  not  the  whole  age  in  a  combination  to  drive 
sense  and  discretion  out  of  doors?  There's  my 
pretty  darling  Kate ;  the  fashions  of  the  times  have 
almost  infected  her  too.  By  living  a  year  or  two  in 
town,  she  is  as  fond  of  gauze,  and  French  frippery, 
as  the  best  of  them. 

21 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer       [ACT  i. 

Enter  Miss  HARDCASTLE. 

HARD.  Blessings  on  my  pretty  innocence !  Brest  out 
as  usual,  my  Kate.  Goodness  !  What  a  quantity  of 
superfluous  silk  hast  thou  got  about  thee,  girl !  I 
could  never  teach  the  fools  of  this  age  that  the 
indigent  world  could  be  clothed  out  of  the  trim- 
mings of  the  vain. 

Miss  HARD.  You  know  our  agreement,  sir.  You  allow 
me  the  morning  to  receive  and  pay  visits,  and  to 
dress  in  my  own  manner ;  and  in  the  evening,  I  put 
on  my  housewife's  dress  to  please  you. 

HARD.  Well,  remember  I  insist  on  the  terms  of  our 
agreement ;  and,  by  the  bye,  I  believe  I  shall  have 
occasion  to  try  your  obedience  this  very  evening. 

Miss  HARD.  I  protest,  sir,  I  don't  comprehend  your 
meaning. 

HARD.  Then,  to  be  plain  with  you,  Kate,  I  expect  the 
young  gentleman  I  have  chosen  to  be  your  husband 
from  town  this  very  day.  I  have  his  father's  letter, 
in  which  he  informs  me  his  son  is  set  out,  and  that 
he  intends  to  follow  himself  shortly  after. 

Miss  HARD.  Indeed  !  I  wish  I  had  known  something 
of  this  before.  Bless  me,  how  shall  I  behave  ?  It 's 
a  thousand  to  one  I  shan't  like  him ;  our  meeting 
will  be  so  formal,  and  so  like  a  thing  of  business, 
that  I  shall  find  no  room  for  friendship  or  esteem. 

HARD.  Depend  upon  it,  child,  I  '11  never  control  your 
choice ;  but  Mr.  Marlow,  whom  I  have  pitched  upon, 
is  the  son  of  my  old  friend,  Sir  Charles  Marlow,  of 

22 

9**- 


I 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

whom  you  have  heard  me  talk  so  often.     The  young 
gentleman  has  been  bred  a  scholar,  and  is  designed 
for  an  employment  in  the  service  of  his  country.     I 
am  told  he  is  a  man  of  an  excellent  understanding. 
Miss  HARD.  Is  he? 
HARD.  Very  generous. 
Miss  HARD.  I  believe  I  shall  like  him. 
HARD.  Young  and  brave. 
Miss  HARD.  I  'm  sure  I  shall  like  him. 
HARD.  And  very  handsome. 
Miss  HARD.  My  dear  papa,  say  no  more  [kissing  his 

hand} ;  he 's  mine,  I  '11  have  him  ! 
HARD.  And  to  crown  all,  Kate,  he  's  one  of  the  most 
bashful  and  reserved  young  fellows  in  all  the  world. 
Miss  HARD.  Eh !  you  have  frozen  me  to  death  again. 
That  word  reserved  has  undone  all  the  rest  of  his 
accomplishments.      A   reserved    lover,   it    is    said, 
always  makes  a  suspicious  husband. 
HARD.  On   the  contrary,  modesty  seldom   resides   in 
a   breast   that  is  not  enriched  with   nobler  virtues. 
It  was  the  very  feature  in  his  character  that   first 
struck  me. 

Miss  HARD.  He  must  have  more  striking  features  to 
catch  me,  I  promise  you.  However,  if  he  be  so 
young,  so  handsome,  and  so  everything,  as  you 
mention,  I  believe  he  '11  do  still.  I  think  I  '11 
have  him. 
HARD.  Ay,  Kate,  but  there  is  still  an  obstacle.  It's 

more  than  an  even  wager,  he  may  not  have  you. 
Miss  HARD.  My  dear  papa,  why  will  you  mortify  one 

23 


dear  papa,  say  no  more. 

ACT  1,      SCENE  1 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

so?  Well,  if  he  refuses,  instead  of  breaking  my 
heart  at  his  indifference,  I  '11  only  break  my  glass  for 
its  flattery,  set  my  cap  to  some  newer  fashion,  and 
look  out  for  some  less  difficult  admirer. 
HARD.  Bravely  resolved !  In  the  meantime  I  '11  go 
prepare  the  servants  for  his  reception  ;  as  we  seldom 
see  company,  they  want  as  much  training  as  a 
company  of  recruits  the  first  day's  muster.  \Exit. 

Miss  HARDCASTLE,  sola. 

Miss  HARD.  This  news  of  papa's  puts  me  all  in  a 
flutter.  Young — handsome  :  these  he  puts  last ;  but 
I  put  them  foremost.  Sensible — good-natured :  I 
like  all  that.  But  then — reserved,  and  sheepish : 
that 's  much  against  him.  Yet,  can't  he  be  cured  of 
his  timidity,  by  being  taught  to  be  proud  of  his  wife  ? 
Yes ;  and  can't  I — But,  I  vow,  I  'm  disposing  of  the 
husband,  before  I  have  secured  the  lover. 

Enter  Miss  NEVILLE. 

Miss  HARD.  I  'm  glad  you  're  come,  Neville,  my  dear. 
Tell  me,  Constance :  how  do  I  look  this  evening  ? 
Is  there  anything  whimsical  about  me?  Is  it  one 
of  my  well-looking  days,  child?  Am  I  in  face 
to-day  ? 

Miss  NEV.  Perfectly,  my  dear.  Yet,  now  I  look  again 
— bless  me ! — sure  no  accident  has  happened  among 
the  canary  birds,  or  the  gold  fishes.  Has  your 
brother  or  the  cat  been  meddling  ?  Or,  has  the  last 
novel  been  too  moving? 

27 


Z/ell  me,  Constance:   haio  do  ^J  look  this  eoening? 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

Miss  HARD.    No;   nothing  of  all  this.     I  have  been 
threatened — I   can  scarce  get  it  out — I  have  been 
threatened  with  a  lover. 
-Miss  NEV.  And  his  name 

Miss  HARD.  Is  Marlow. 

Miss  NEV.  Indeed ! 

Miss  HARD.  The  son  of  Sir  Charles  Marlow. 

Miss  NEV.  As  I  live,  the  most  intimate  friend  of  Mr. 
Hastings,  my  admirer.  They  are  never  asunder. 
I  believe  you  must  have  seen  him  when  we  lived  in 
town. 

Miss  HARD.  Never. 

Miss  NEV.  He's  a  very  singular  character,  I  assure 
you.  Among  women  of  reputation  and  virtue,  he  is 
the  modestest  man  alive ;  but  his  acquaintance  give 
him  a  very  different  character  among  creatures  of 
another  stamp  :  you  understand  me. 

Miss  HARD.  An  odd  character,  indeed.  I  shall  never 
be  able  to  manage  him.  What  shall  I  do  ?  Pshaw, 
think  no  more  of  him,  but  trust  to  occurrences  for 
success.  But  how  goes  on  your  own  affair,  my 
dear?  Has  my  mother  been  courting  you  for  my 
brother  Tony,  as  usual  ? 

Miss  NEV.  I  have  just  come  from  one  of  our  agreeable 
t£te-a-t£tes.  She  has  been  saying  a  hundred  tender 
things,  and  setting  off  her  pretty  monster  as  the  very 
pink  of  perfection. 

Miss  HARD.  And  her  partiality  is  such,  that  she 
actually  thinks  him  so.  A  fortune  like  yours  is  no 
small  temptation.  Besides,  as  she  has  the  sole 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer       [ACT  i. 

management  of  it,  I  'm  not  surprised  to  see  her 
unwilling  to  let  it  go  out  of  the  family. 

Miss  NEV.  A  fortune  like  mine,  which  chiefly  consists 
in  jewels,  is  no  such  mighty  temptation.  But  at  any 
rate,  if  my  dear  Hastings  be  but  constant,  I  make  no 
doubt  to  be  too  hard  for  her  at  last.  However,  I  let 
her  suppose  that  I  am  in  love  with  her  son,  and  she 
never  once  dreams  that  my  affections  are  fixed  upon 
another. 

Miss  HARD.  My  good  brother  holds  out  stoutly.  I 
could  almost  love  him  for  hating  you  so. 

Miss  NEV.  It  is  a  good-natured  creature  at  bottom, 
and  I  'm  sure  would  wish  to  see  me  married  to  any- 
body but  himself.  But  my  aunt's  bell  rings  for  our 
afternoon's  walk  round  the  improvements.  Allans  / 
Courage  is  necessary,  as  our  affairs  are  critical. 

Miss  HARD.  Would  it  were  bed-time,  and  all  were 
well.  \Exeunt. 


SCENE  II 

An  ale-house  room.  Several  shabby  Fellows,  with 
punch  and  tobacco.  TONY  at  the  head  of  the  table, 
a  little  higher  than  the  rest ;  a  mallet  in  his  hand. 

OMNES.  Hurrea,  hurrea,  hurrea,  bravo ! 

i   FEL.   Now,   gentlemen,  silence   for    a   song.      The 

'squire  is  going  to  knock  himself  down  for  a  song. 
OMNES.  Ay,  a  song,  a  song ! 
TONY.  Then  I  '11  sing  you,  gentlemen,  a  song  I  made 

upon  this  ale-house,  the  Three  Pigeons. 

SONG. 

Let  schoolmasters  puzzle  their  brain, 

With  grammar,  and  nonsense,  and  learning ; 
Good  liquor,  I  stoutly  maintain, 

Gives  genus  a  better  discerning. 
Let  them  brag  of  their  heathenish  gods, 

Their  Lethes,  their  Styxes,  and  Stygians ; 
Their  quis,  and  their  quces,  and  their  quods, 

They  're  all  but  a  parcel  of  pigeons. 

Toroddle,  toroddle,  toroll. 

When  Methodist  preachers  come  down, 

A-preaching  that  drinking  is  sinful, 
I  '11  wager  the  rascals  a  crown, 

They  always  preach  best  with  a  skin-full. 

E  33 


s  z'a    e<zA  ///TZ  S//T^,  bekeays  fie  neoer 
gioes  us  nothing  that  s  low. 


sc.  ii.]        She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

But  when  you  come  down  with  your  pence, 

For  a  slice  of  their  scurvy  religion, 
I  '11  leave  it  to  all  men  of  sense, 

But  you,  my  good  friend,  are  the  pigeon. 

Toroddle,  toroddle,  toroll. 

Then  come,  put  the  jorum  about, 

And  let  us  be  merry  and  clever ; 
Our  hearts  and  our  liquors  are  stout, 

Here's  the  Three  Jolly  Pigeons  for  ever! 
Let  some  cry  up  woodcock  or  hare, 

Your  bustards,  your  ducks,  and  your  widgeons, 
But  of  all  the  birds  in  the  air, 

Here's  a  health  to  the  Three  Jolly  Pigeons. 

Toroddle,  toroddle,  toroll. 

OMNES.  Bravo!  bravo! 

1  FEL.  The  'squire  has  got  spunk  in  him. 

2  FEL.    I  loves  to  hear  him  sing,  bekeays   he  never 
gives  us  nothing  that 's  low. 

3  FEL.  Oh,  nothing  that's  low,  I  cannot  bear  it. 

4  FEL.  The  genteel   thing  is  the  genteel   thing  any 
time.     If  so  be  that  a  gentleman  bees  in  a  concatena- 
tion accordingly. 

3  FEL.  I  like  the  maxum  of  it,  Master  Muggins. 
What  though  I  am  obligated  to  dance  a  bear  ?  A 
man  may  be  a  gentleman  for  all  that.  May  this  be 
my  poison,  if  my  bear  ever  dances  but  to  the  very 
genteelest  of  tunes  ;  '  Water  parted,'  or  '  The  minuet 
in  Ariadne.' 

2  FEL.  What  a  pity  it  is  the  'squire  is  not  come  to  his 
own  I  It  would  be  well  for  all  the  publicans  within 
ten  miles  round  of  him. 

37 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer        [ACT  i. 

TONY.  Ecod,  and  so  it  would,  Master  Slang.  I  'd 
then  show  what  it  was  to  keep  choice  of  company. 

2  FEL.  Oh,  he  takes  after  his  own  father  for  that.  To 
be  sure,  old  'squire  Lumpkin  was  the  finest  gentle- 
man I  ever  set  my  eyes  on.  For  winding  the 
straight  horn,  or  beating  a  thicket  for  a  hare,  he 
never  had  his  fellow.  It  was  a  saying  in  the  place, 
that  he  kept  the  best  horses  and  dogs  in  the  whole 
county. 

TONY.  Ecod,  and  when  I  'm  of  age  I  '11  be  my  father's 
son,  I  promise  you !  I  have  been  thinking  of  Bet 
Bouncer,  and  the  miller's  grey  mare  to  begin  with. 
But  come,  my  boys,  drink  about  and  be  merry,  for 
you  pay  no  reckoning. — Well,  Stingo,  what's  the 
matter  ? 

Enter  LANDLORD. 

LAND.  There  be  two  gentlemen  in  a  post-chaise  at  the 
door.  They  have  lost  their  way  upo'  the  forest ;  and 
they  are  talking  something  about  Mr.  Hardcastle. 

TONY.  As  sure  as  can  be,  one  of  them  must  be  the 
gentleman  that's  coming  down  to  court  my  sister. 
Do  they  seem  to  be  Londoners  ? 

LAND.  I  believe  they  may.  They  look  woundily  like 
Frenchmen. 

TONY.  Then  desire  them  to  step  this  way,  and  I  '11 
set  them  right  in  a  twinkling.  {Exit  LANDLORD.] 
Gentlemen,  as  they  mayn't  be  good  enough  company 
for  you,  step  down  for  a  moment,  and  I  '11  be  with 
you  in  the  squeezing  of  a  lemon.  \Exeunt  mob. 

38 


sc.  ii.]        She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

TONY,  solus. 

TONY.  Father-in-law  has  been  calling  me  whelp,  and 
hound,  this  half-year.  Now,  if  I  pleased,  I  could  be 
so  revenged  upon  the  old  grumbletonian.  But  then 
I  'm  afraid — afraid  of  what  ?  I  shall  soon  be  worth 
fifteen  hundred  a  year,  and  let  him  frighten  me  out 
of  that  if  he  can. 

Enter  LANDLORD  conducting  MARLOW 
and  HASTINGS. 

MARL.  What  a  tedious  uncomfortable  day  have  we 
had  of  it!  We  were  told  it  was  but  forty  miles 
across  the  country,  and  we  have  come  above  three- 
score. 

HAST.  And  all,  Marlow,  from  that  unaccountable 
reserve  of  yours,  that  would  not  let  us  inquire  more 
frequently  on  the  way. 

MARL.  I  own,  Hastings,  I  am  unwilling  to  lay  myself 
under  an  obligation  to  every  one  I  meet :  and  often 
stand  the  chance  of  an  unmannerly  answer. 

HAST.  At  present,  however,  we  are  not  likely  to 
receive  any  answer. 

TONY.  No  offence,  gentlemen ;  but  I  'm  told  you 
have  been  inquiring  for  one  Mr.  Hardcastle,  in 
these  parts.  Do  you  know  what  part  of  the  country 
you  are  in  ? 

HAST.  Not  in  the  least,  sir ;  but  should  thank  you  for 
information. 

TONY.  Nor  the  way  you  came  ? 

39 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer        [ACT  i. 

HAST.  No,  sir ;  but  if  you  can  inform  us 

TONY.  Why,  gentlemen,  if  you  know  neither  the  road 

you  are  going,  nor  where  you  are,  nor  the  road  you 

came,  the  first  thing  I  have  to  inform  you,  is,  that — 

you  have  lost  your  way. 
MARL.  We  wanted  no  ghost  to  tell  us  that. 
TONY.  Pray,  gentlemen,  may  I  be  so  bold  as  to  ask  the 

place  from  whence  you  came  ? 
MARL.  That 's  not  necessary  towards  directing  us  where 

we  are  to  go. 
TONY.   No  offence ;   but   question  for   question   is  all 

fair,  you  know.     Pray,  gentlemen,  is  not  this  same 

Hardcastle  a  cross-grained,  old-fashioned,  whimsical 

fellow  with  an  ugly  face;   a  daughter,  and  a  pretty 

son? 
HAST.  We  have  not  seen  the  gentleman ;  but  he  has 

the  family  you  mention. 
TONY.  The    daughter,    a    tall,    trapesing,    trolloping, 

talkative  May-pole.     The  son,  a  pretty,  well-bred, 

agreeable  youth,  that  everybody  is  fond  of. 
MARL.  Our  information  differs  in  this.     The  daughter 

is  said  to  be  well-bred  and  beautiful ;  the  son  an 

awkward    booby,    reared    up,    and    spoiled    at    his 

mother's  apron-string. 
TONY.  He-he-hem  1     Then,  gentlemen,  all   I   have  to 

tell  you  is,  that  you  won't  reach  Mr.  Hardcastle's 

house  this  night,  I  believe. 
HAST.  Unfortunate! 
TONY.  It 's  a  long,  dark,  boggy,  dirty,  dangerous  way. 

Stingo,  tell  the  gentlemen  the  way  to  Mr.   Hard- 
40 


QJrn 


6een. 


cjar 


one 


castle's   [winking  upon    the  landlord}  ;    Mr.    Hard- 
castle's  of  Quagmire  Marsh  ;  you  understand  me. 
LAND.  Master  Hardcastle's?    Lack-a-daisy,  my  masters, 
you  're  come  a  deadly  deal  wrong  !     When  you  came 
F  41 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer        [ACT  i. 

to  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  you  should  have  crossed 
down  Squash  Lane. 

MARL.  Cross  down  Squash  Lane  ? 

LAND.  Then  you  were  to  keep  straight  forward,  till 
you  came  to  four  roads. 

MARL.  Come  to  where  four  roads  meet ! 

TONY.  Ay ;  but  you  must  be  sure  to  take  only  one 
of  them. 

MARL.  Oh,  sir,  you  're  facetious. 

TONY.  Then  keeping  to  the  right,  you  are  to  go  side- 
ways till  you  come  upon  Crack-skull  Common :  there 
you  must  look  sharp  for  the  track  of  the  wheel,  and 
go  forward,  till  you  come  to  farmer  Murrain's  barn. 
Coming  to  the  farmer's  barn,  you  are  to  turn  to  the 
right,  and  then  to  the  left,  and  then  to  the  right-about 
again,  till  you  find  out  the  old  mill 

MARL.  Zounds,  man !  we  could  as  soon  find  out  the 
longitude ! 

HAST.  What 's  to  be  done,  Marlow  ? 

MARL.  This  house  promises  but  a  poor  reception  ; 
though  perhaps  the  landlord  can  accommodate  us. 

LAND.  Alack !  master,  we  have  but  one  spare  bed  in 
the  whole  house. 

TONY.  And,  to  my  knowledge,  that's  taken  up  by  three 
lodgers  already.  \After  a  pause,  in  which  the  rest 
seem  disconcerted^  I  have  hit  it.  Don't  you  think, 
Stingo,  our  landlady  would  accommodate  the  gentle- 
men by  the  fire-side,  with — three  chairs  and  a  bolster? 

HAST.  I  hate  sleeping  by  the  fire-side. 

MARL.  And  I  detest  your  three  chairs  and  a  bolster. 
42 


u 


yoa 

C/ 


7nem  f 

xo        <3/ 

,  6e\/occ  ? 


o  uoar 

<3/         -CX 


TONY.  You  do,  do  you  ?  Then  let  me  see  —  what  if  you 
go  on  a  mile  further,  to  the  Buck's  Head  ;  the  old 
Buck's  Head  on  the  hill,  one  of  the  best  inns  in  the 
whole  county  ? 

HAST.  Oh,  ho  !  so  we  have  escaped  an  adventure  for 
this  night,  however. 

LAND.  \Apart  to  TONY.]  Sure,  you  ben't  sending  them 
to  your  father's  as  an  inn,  be  you  ? 

43 


J~ 


TONY.  Mum,  you  fool  you !  Let  /^w  find  that  out. 
[To  them^\ — You  have  only  to  keep  on  straight 
forward,  till  you  come  to  a  large  old  house  by  the 
road-side.  You  '11  see  a  pair  of  large  horns  over  the 
door.  That's  the  sign.  Drive  up  the  yard,  and 
call  stoutly  about  you. 

HAST.  Sir,  we  are  obliged  to  you.  The  servants  can't 
miss  the  way. 

TONY.  No,  no.     But  I  tell  you,  though,  the  landlord 

44 


sc.  IL]        She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

is  rich  and  going  to  leave  off  business ;  so  he  wants 
to  be  thought  a  gentleman,  saving  your  presence, 
he  !  he !  he  !  He  '11  be  for  giving  you  his  company, 
and  ecod,  if  you  mind  him,  he  '11  persuade  you  that 
his  mother  was  an  alderman,  and  his  aunt  a  justice 
of  peace. 

LAND.  A  troublesome  old  blade,  to  be  sure  ;  but  a  keeps 
as  good  wines  and  beds  as  any  in  the  whole  country. 

MARL.  Well,  if  he  supplies  us  with  these,  we  shall 
want  no  further  connection.  We  are  to  turn  to  the 
right,  did  you  say? 

TONY.  No,  no  ;  straight  forward.  I  '11  just  step  myself, 
and  show  you  a  piece  of  the  way.  [To  the  LANDLORD.] 
— Mum. 

LAND.  Ah,  you  are  a  sweet,  pleasant — mischievous 
humbug.  ,  \Exeunt. 


\ 


r 


SCENE  I 

An  old-fashioned  house. 

Enter  HARDCASTLE,  followed by  three  or  four 
awkward  Servants. 

HARD.  Well,  I  hope  you  're  perfect  in  the  table  exercise 
I  have  been  teaching  you  these  three  days.  You 
all  know  your  posts  and  your  places ;  and  can  show 
that  you  have  been  used  to  company,  without  ever 
stirring  from  home. 

OMNES.  Ay,  ay. 

HARD.  When  company  comes,  you  are  not  to  pop  out 
and  stare,  and  then  run  in  again,  like  frighted  rabbits 
in  a  warren. 

OMNES.  No,  no. 

HARD.  You,  Diggory,  whom  I  have  taken  from  the 
barn,  are  to  make  a  show  at  the  side-table :  and  you, 
Roger,  whom  I  have  advanced  from  the  plough,  are 
to  place  yourself  behind  my  chair.  But  you  're  not 
to  stand  so,  with  your  hands  in  your  pockets.  Take 
your  hands  from  your  pockets,  Roger ;  and  from 
your  head,  you  blockhead  you.  See  how  Diggory 
carries  his  hands.  They  're  a  little  too  stiff,  indeed, 
but  that 's  no  great  matter. 

G  49 


Jhen,  ecod,  your  worship  musi  not  tell  the  story 
of  Uld  Arouse  in  the  gun-room. 

ACT  2       SCENE  1. 


sc  i-]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

DIGG.  Ay ;  mind  how  I  hold  them.  I  learned  to  hold 
my  hands  this  way,  when  I  was  upon  drill  for  the 
militia.  And  so  being  upon  drill 

HARD.  You  must  not  be  so  talkative,  Diggory.  You 
must  be  all  attention  to  the  guests.  You  must  hear 
us  talk,  and  not  think  of  talking ;  you  must  see  us 
drink,  and  not  think  of  drinking ;  you  must  see  us 
eat,  and  not  think  of  eating. 

DIGG.  By  the  laws,  your  worship,  that's  parfectly 
unpossible.  Whenever  Diggory  sees  yeating  going 
forward,  ecod,  he's  always  wishing  for  a  mouthful 
himself. 

HARD.  Blockhead  !  is  not  a  belly-full  in  the  kitchen  as 
good  as  a  belly-full  in  the  parlour?  Stay  your 
stomach  with  that  reflection. 

DIGG.  Ecod,  I  thank  your  worship,  I  '11  make  a  shift 
to  stay  my  stomach  with  a  slice  of  cold  beef  in  the 
pantry. 

HARD.  Diggory,  you  are  too  talkative.  Then  if  I 
happen  to  say  a  good  thing,  or  tell  a  good  story  at 
table,  you  must  not  all  burst  out  a-laughing,  as  if 
you  made  part  of  the  company. 

DIGG.  Then,  ecod,  your  worship  must  not  tell  the  story 
of  Old  Grouse  in  the  gun-room  :  I  can't  help  laugh- 
ing at  that — he  !  he  !  he ! — for  the  soul  of  me.  We 
have  laughed  at  that  these  twenty  years — ha !  ha !  ha ! 

HARD.  Ha !  ha !  ha !  The  story  is  a  good  one. 
Well,  honest  Diggory,  you  may  laugh  at  that — 
but  still  remember  to  be  attentive.  Suppose  one 
of  the  company  should  call  for  a  glass  of  wine,  how 

53 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer      [ACT  n. 

will   you   behave?      A  glass   of  wine,    sir,    if  you 

please.     [To  DIGGORY.] — Eh,  why  don't  you  move? 
DIGG.  Ecod,  your  worship,  I  never  have  courage  till  I 

see  the  eatables  and  drinkables  brought   upon   the 

table,  and  then  I  'm  as  bauld  as  a  lion. 
HARD.  What,  will  nobody  move  ? 

1  SERV.  I  'm  not  to  leave  this  pleace. 

2  SERV.  I  'm  sure  it 's  no  pleace  of  mine. 

3  SERV.  Nor  mine,  for  sartain. 

DIGG.  Wauns,  and  I  'm  sure  it  canna  be  mine. 

HARD.  You  numskulls  !  *and  so  while,  like  your  betters, 
you  are  quarrelling  for  places,  the  guests  must  be 
starved.vv  Oh,  you  dunces  !  I  find  I  must  begin  all 
over  again.  But  don't  I  hear  a  coach  drive  into  the 
yard  ?  To  your  posts,  you  blockheads  !  I  '11  go  in 
the  meantime,  and  give  my  old  friend's  son  a  hearty 
reception  at  the  gate.  {Exit  HARDCASTLE. 

DIGG.  By  the  elevens,  my  pleace  is  gone  quite  out  of 
my  head. 

ROGER.  I  know  that  my  pleace  is  to  be  everywhere. 

1  SERV.  Where  is  mine? 

2  SERV.  My  pleace  is  to  be  nowhere  at  all ;  and  so  I  'ze 
go  about  my  business.     \Exeitnt  Servants,  running 
about  as  if  frightened,  different  ways.} 

Enter  Servant  with  candles,  showing  in  MARLOW 
and  HASTINGS. 

SERV.  Welcome,  gentlemen,  very  welcome.  This 
way. 

54 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

HAST.  After  the  disappointments  of  the  day,  welcome 
once  more,  Charles,  to  the  comforts  of  a  clean  room, 
and  a  good  fire.  Upon  my  word,  a  very  well-looking 
house ;  antique,  but  creditable. 

MARL.  The  usual  fate  of  a  large  mansion.  Having 
first  ruined  the  master  by  good  housekeeping,  it  at 
last  comes  to  levy  contributions  as  an  inn. 

HAST.  As  you  say,  we  passengers  are  to  be  taxed 
to  pay  all  these  fineries.  I  have  often  seen  a  good 
sideboard,  or  a  marble  chimney-piece,  though  not 
actually  put  in  the  bill,  inflame  a  reckoning  con- 
foundedly. 

MARL.  Travellers,  George,  must  pay  in  all  places. 
The  only  difference  is,  that  in  good  inns  you  pay 
dearly  for  luxuries  ;  in  bad  inns  you  are  fleeced  and 
starved. 

HAST.  You  have  lived  very  much  among  them.  In 
truth,  I  have  been  often  surprised,  that  you,  who 
have  seen  so  much  of  the  world,  with  your  natural 
good  sense,  and  your  many  opportunities,  could 
never  yet  acquire  a  requisj^shaj^^f^as^urance. 

MARL.  The  Englishman's  malady.  But  tell  me, 
George,  where  could  I  have  learned  that  assurance 
you  jalk_of  ?  My  life  has  been  chiefly  spent  in  a 
college^^cr  an  inn ;  in  seclusioi^roin__that  lovely: 
part  of  the  creation  that  chiefly  teach  _men  cojv- 
fidence.  I  don't  know  that  I  was  ever  familiarly 
acquainted  with  a  single  modest  woman — except  my 
mother. 
HAST.  In  the  company  of  women  of  reputation,  I 

55 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer      [ACT  n. 

never  saw  such  an  idiot,  such  a  trembler  :  you  look, 
for  all  the  world,  as  if  you  wanted  an  opportunity  of 
stealing  out  of  the  room. 

MARL.  Why,  man,  that 's  because  I  do  want  to  steal 
out  of  the  room  !  I  have  often  formed  a  resolution 
to  break  the  ice,  and  rattle  away  at  any  rate.  But 
I  don't  know  how,  a  single  glance  from  a  pair  of 
fine  eyes  has  totally  overset  my  resolution.  An 
impudent  fellow  may  counterfeit  modesty ;  but  I  '11 
be  hanged  if  a  modest  man  can  ever  counterfeit 
impudence. 

HAST.  If  you  could  but  say  half  the  things  to 
them  that  I  have  heard  you  lavish  upon  the  barmaid 
of  an  inn. 

MARL.  Why,  George,  I  can't  say  fine  things  to  them. 
They  freeze,  they  petrify  me.  They  may  talk  of 
a  comet,  or  a  burning  mountain,  or  some  such 
bagatelle :  'tut  to  me,  a  modest  woman,  drest  out  in 
all  her  finery,  is  the  most  tremendous  object  of  the 
whole  creation. l* 

HAST.  Ha  !  ha !  ha !  At  this  rate,  man,  how  can  you 
ever  expect  to  marry  ? 

MARL.  Never,  unless,  as  among  kings  and  princes, 
my  bride  were  to  be  courted  by  proxy.  If,  indeed, 
like  an  Eastern  bridegroom,  one  were  to  be  intro- 
duced to  a  wife  he  never  saw  before,  it  might  be 
endured.  But  to  go  through  all  the  terrors  of  a 
formal  courtship,  together  with  the  episode  of  aunts, 
grandmothers,  and  cousins,  and  at  last  to  blurt  out 
the  broad-star  question  of — Madam,  will  you  marry 

56 


sc  i.]          She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

me?     No,   no;    that's  a  strain  much  above  me,  I 
assure  you. 

HAST.  I  pity  you.  But  how  do  you  intend  behaving 
to  the  lady  you  are  come  down  to  visit  at  the  request 
of  your  father  ? 

MARL.  As  I  behave  to  all  other  ladies  :  bow  very  low  ; 
answer  yes,  or  no,  to  all  her  demands.  But  for  the 
rest,  I  don't  think  I  shall  venture  to  look  in  her  face, 
till  I  see  my  father's  again. 

HAST.  I  am  surprised  that  one  who  is  so  warm  a 
friend  can  be  so  cool  a  lover. 

MARL.  To  be  explicit,  my  dear  Hastings,  my  chief 
inducement  down  was  to  be  instrumental  in  for- 
warding your  happiness,  not  my  own.  Miss  Neville 
loves  you  ;  the  family  don't  know  you  ;  as  my  friend 
you  are  sure  of  a  reception,  and  let  honour  do 
the  rest. 

HAST.  My  dear  Marlow !  —  But  I  '11  suppress  the 
emotion.  Were  I  a  wretch,  meanly  seeking  to  carry 
off  a  fortune,  you  should  be  the  last  man  in  the  world 
I  would  apply  to  for  assistance.  But  Miss  Neville's 
person  is  all  I  ask ;  and  that  is  mine,  both  from  her 
deceased  father's  consent,  and  her  own  inclination. 

MARL.  Happy  man !  You  have  talents  and  art  to 
captivate  any  woman.  I  am  doomed  to  adore  the 
sex,  and  yet  to  converse  with  the  only  part  of  it  I 
despise.  This  stammer  in  my  address,  and  this 
awkward  prepossessing  visage  of  mine,  can  never 
permit  me  to  soar  —  Pshaw !  this  fellow  here  to 
interrupt  us. 

H  57 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer      [ACT  n. 

Enter  HARDCASTLE. 

HARD.  Gentlemen,  once  more  you  are  heartily  wel- 
come. Which  is  Mr.  Marlow?  Sir,  you  're  heartily 
welcome.  It 's  not  my  way,  you  see,  to  receive  my 
friends  with  my  back  to  the  fire.  I  like  to  give 
them  a  hearty  reception,  in  the  old  style,  at  my 
gate.  I  like  to  see  their  horses  and  trunks  taken 
care  of. 

MARL.  \Aside^\  He  has  got  our  names  from  the 
servants  already.  [To  him.]  —  We  approve  your 
caution  and  hospitality,  sir.  [70  HASTINGS.] — I  have 
been  thinking,  George,  of  changing  our  travelling 
dresses  in  the  morning.  I  am  grown  confoundedly 
ashamed  of  mine. 

HARD.  I  beg,  Mr.  Marlow,  you  '11  use  no  ceremony  in 
this  house. 

HAST.  I  fancy,  Charles,  you  're  right :  the  first  blow 
is  half  the  battle.  I  intend  opening  the  campaign 
with  the  white  and  gold. 

HARD.  Mr.  Marlow — Mr.  Hastings — gentlemen — pray 
be  under  no  restraint  in  this  house.  This  is  Liberty 
Hall,  gentlemen.  You  may  do  just  as  you  please 
here. 

MARL.  Yet,  George,  if  we  open  the  campaign  too 
fiercely  at  first,  we  may  want  ammunition  before  it  is 
over.  I  think  to  reserve  the  embroidery  to  secure 
a  retreat. 

HARD.  Your  talking  of  a  retreat,  Mr.  Marlow,  puts 
me  in  mind  of  the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  when  he 

58 


sc-  i-]          She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

went  to  besiege  Denain.  He  first  summoned  the 
garrison 

MARL.  Don't  you  think  the  venire  d'or  waistcoat  will 
do  with  the  plain  brown  ? 

HARD.  He  first  summoned  the  garrison,  which  might 
consist  of  about  five  thousand  men 

HAST.  I  think  not :  brown  and  yellow  mix  but  very 
poorly. 

HARD.  I  say,  gentlemen,  as  I  was  telling  you,  he 
summoned  the  garrison,  which  might  consist  of 
about  five  thousand  men 

MARL.  The  girls  like  finery. 

HARD.  Which  might  consist  of  about  five  thousand 
men,  well  appointed  with  stores,  ammunition,  and 
other  implements  of  war.  Now,  says  the  Duke  of 
Marlborough  to  George  Brooks,  that  stood  next  to 
him — you  must  have  heard  of  George  Brooks — '  I  '11 
pawn  my  dukedom,'  says  he,  '  but  I  '11  take  that 
garrison,  without  spilling  a  drop  of  blood.'  So — — 

MARL.  What,  my  good  friend,  if  you  gave  us  a  glass 
of  punch  in  the  meantime?  It  would  help  us  to 
carry  on  the  siege  with  vigour. 

HARD.  Punch,  sir!  [si side.} — This  is  the  most  un- 
accountable kind  of  modesty  I  ever  met  with. 

MARL.  Yes,  sir,  punch.  A  glass  of  warm  punch,  after 
our  journey,  will  be  comfortable.  This  is  Liberty 
Hall,  you  know. 

HARD.  Here 's  a  cup,  sir. 

MARL.  [^4  side]  So  this  fellow,  in  his  Liberty  Hall, 
will  only  let  us  have  just  what  he  pleases. 

59 


J'lulf  the  differences  of  the  parish,  are  adjusted 
in  this  oery  parlour. 


ACT  2.      SCENE  1 


sc.  L]         She  Stilus  ft   Conquer 

HARD.  [Taking  the  cup]  I  hope  you'll  find  it  to  your 
mind.  I  have  prepared  it  with  my  own  hands,  and 
I  believe  you'll  own  the  ingredients  are  tolerable. 
Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  pledge  me,  sir?  Here, 
Mr.  Marlow,  here  is  to  our  better  acquaintance. 
[Drinks.] 

MARL.  [Aside]  A  very  impudent  fellow  this  !  But  he 's 
a  character,  and  I  '11  humour  him  a  little.  [To  him] 
— Sir,  my  service  to  you.  [Drinks. ~\ 

HAST.  [Aside^]  I  see  this  fellow  wants  to  give  us  his 
company,  and  forgets  that  he 's  an  innkeeper,  before 
he  has  learned  to  be  a  gentleman. 

MARL.  From  the  excellence  of  your  cup,  my  old  friend, 
I  suppose  you  have  a  good  deal  of  business  in  this 
part  of  the  country.  Warm  work,  now  and  then,  at 
elections,  I  suppose. 

HARD.  No,  sir,   I    have  long  given   that  work   over. 

\\Since  our  betters  have  hit  upon  the  expedient  of 
electing  each  other,  there 's  no  business  for  us  that 
sell  ale^ 

HAST.  So,  then,  you  have  no  turn  for  politics,  I  find. 

HARD.  Not  in  the  least.  There  was  a  time,  indeed, 
I  fretted  myself  about  the  mistakes  of  Government, 
like  other  people  :  but,  finding  myself  every  day  grow 
more  angry,  and  the  Government  growing  no  better, 
I  left  it  to  mend  itself.  Since  that,  I  no  more 
trouble  my  head  about  Hyder  Ally,  or  Ally  Cawn, 
than  about  Ally  Croker. — Sir,  my  service  to  you. 

HAST.  So  that  with  eating  above  stairs,  and  drinking 
below ;  with  receiving  your  friends  within,  and 

63 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer      [ACT  n. 

amusing  them  without,  you  lead  a  good,  pleasant, 

bustling  life  of  it. 
HARD.  I  do  stir  about   a  great  deal,  that's  certain. 

Half  the  differences  of  the  parish  are  adjusted  in  this 

very  parlour. 
MARL.  [After  drinking.]    And  you  have  an  argument 

in   your   cup,   old    gentleman,    better    than   any   in 

Westminster  Hall. 
HARD.  Ay,     young    gentleman,    that,    and     a    little 

philosophy. 
MARL.  [Aside.]  Well,   this   is   the   first   time   I   ever 

heard  of  an  innkeeper's  philosophy. 
HAST.  So,  then,  like  an  experienced  general,  you  attack 

them  on  every  quarter.     If  you  find   their  reason 

manageable,  you  attack  it  with  your  philosophy ;  if 

you  find  they  have  no  reason,  you  attack  them  with 

this. — Here 's  your  health,  my  philosopher. 

[Drinks] 
HARD.  Good,  very  good,  thank  you ;  ha  1  ha !     Your 

generalship   puts   me   in    mind  of  Prince  Eugene, 

when  he  fought  the  Turks  at  the  battle  of  Belgrade. 

You  shall  hear. 
MARL.  Instead  of  the  battle  of  Belgrade,  I  think  it's 

almost  time  to  talk  about  supper.     What  has  your 

philosophy  got  in  the  house  for  supper? 
HARD.  For  supper,  sir !     [Aside.] — Was  ever  such  a 

request  to  a  man  in  his  own  house  ? 
MARL.  Yes,    sir ;    supper,    sir :    I    begin   to    feel    an 

appetite.      I   shall   make  sad  work  to-night  in  the 

larder,  I  promise  you. 


sc.  i.]          She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

HARD.  \Aside^\  Such  a  brazen  dog  sure  never  my 
eyes  beheld.  [To  him^\ — Why,  really,  sir,  as  for 
supper,  I  can't  well  tell.  My  Dorothy  and  the  cook- 
maid  settle  these  things  between  them.  I  leave 
these  kind  of  things  entirely  to  them. 

MARL.  You  do,  do  you  ? 

HARD.  Entirely.  By  the  bye,  I  believe  they  are  in 
actual  consultation,  upon  what's  for  supper,  this 
moment  in  the  kitchen. 

MARL.  Then  I  beg  they'll  admit  me  as  one  of  their 
privy  council.  It's  a  way  I  have  got.  When  I 
travel,  I  always  choose  to  regulate  my  own  supper. 
Let  the  cook  be  called.  No  offence,  I  hope,  sir. 

HARD.  Oh  no,  sir,  none  in  the  least ;  yet  I  don't 
know  how,  our  Bridget,  the  cook-maid,  is  not 
very  communicative  upon  these  occasions.  Should 
we  send  for  her,  she  might  scold  us  all  out  of  the 
house. 

HAST.  Let 's  see  the  list  of  the  larder,  then.  I  ask  it 
as  a  favour.  I  always  march  my  appetite  to  my  bill 
of  fare. 

MARL.  [To  HARDCASTLE,  who  looks  at  them  with 
surprisel\  Sir,  he's  very  right,  and  it's  my  way 
too. 

HARD.  Sir,  you  have  a  right  to  command  here.  Here, 
Roger,  bring  us  the  bill  of  fare  for  to-night's  supper. 
I  believe  it's  drawn  out.  Your  manner,  Mr. 
Hastings,  puts  me  in  mind  of  my  uncle,  Colonel 
Wallop.  It  was  a  saying  of  his,  that  no  man  was 
sure  of  his  supper  till  he  had  eaten  it. 


z/tem,  a  pork  pie,  a  boiled  rabbit  and  sausages, 
and  a  disk  of  ti/f-taff-taffety  cream! 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

HAST.  \Aside^\  All  upon  the  high  ropes !  His  uncle 
a  colonel !  We  shall  soon  hear  of  his  mother 
being  a  justice  of  the  peace.  But  let's  hear  the  bill 
of  fare. 

MARL.  [Perusing.]  What 's  here  ?  For  the  first 
course  ;  for  the  second  course  ;  for  the  dessert.  Sir, 
do  you  think  we  have  brought  down  the  whole 
Joiners'  company,  or  the  corporation  of  Bedford,  to 
eat  up  such  a  supper?  Two  or  three  little  things, 
clean  and  comfortable,  will  do. 

HAST.  But  let's  hear  it. 

MARL.  [Reading.]  For  the  first  course  at  the  top,  a  pig 
and  prune  sauce. 

HAST.  I  hate  your  pig,  I  say. 

MARL.  And  I  hate  your  prune  sauce,  say  I. 

HARD.  And  yet,  gentlemen,  to  men  that  are  hungry, 
pig,  with  prune  sauce,  is  very  good  eating. 

MARL.  At  the  bottom,  a  calf's  tongue  and  brains. 

HAST.  Let  your  brains  be  knocked  out,  my  good  sir ; 
I  don't  like  them. 

MARL.  Or  you  may  clap  them  on  a  plate  by  them- 
selves. I  do. 

HARD.  \Aside^\  Their  impudence  confounds  me.  [To 
them.] — Gentlemen,  you  are  my  guests,  make  what 
alterations  you  please.  Is  there  anything  else  you 
wish  to  retrench  or  alter,  gentlemen  ? 

MARL.  Item,  a  pork  pie,  a  boiled  rabbit  and  sausages, 
a  florentine,  a  shaking  pudding,  and  a  dish  of  tiff- 
taff-taffety  cream ! 

HAST.  Confound   your   made  dishes  I     I  shall   be  as 

69 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer      [ACT  n. 

much  at  a  loss  in  this  house  as  at  a  green  and  yellow 

dinner  at  the  French  ambassador's  table.     I  'm  for 

plain  eating. 
HARD.  I  'm  sorry,  gentlemen,  that  I  have  nothing  you 

like ;  but  if  there  be  anything  you  have  a  particular 

fancy  to 

MARL.  Why,  sir,  your  bill  of  fare  is  so  exquisite,  that 

any  one  part  of  it  is  full  as  good  as  another.     Send 

us  what  you  please.     So  much  for  supper  :  and  now 

to  see  that  our  beds  are  aired  and  properly  taken 

care  of. 
HARD.  I  entreat  you'll   leave  all  that  to  me.      You 

shall  not  stir  a  step. 
MARL.  Leave  that  to  you  ?     I  protest,  sir,  you   must 

excuse  me ;  I  always  look  to  these  things  myself. 
HARD.  I  must  insist,  sir,  you  '11  make  yourself  easy  on 

that  head. 
MARL.  You  see  I  'm  resolved  on  it.     [Aside.] — A  very 

troublesome  fellow  this,  as  ever  I  met  with. 
HARD.  Well,    sir,    I  'm    resolved  at  least   to   attend 

you.     \AsideI\ — This  may  be  modern  modesty,  but 

I    never  saw  anything   look   so   like  old-fashioned 

impudence.  \Exeunt  MARL,  and  HARD. 

HASTINGS,  solus. 

HAST.  So  I  find,  this  fellow's  civilities  begin  to  grow 
troublesome.  But  who  can  be  angry  at  these 
assiduities,  which  are  meant  to  please  him  ?  Ha ! 
what  do  I  see  ?  Miss  Neville,  by  all  that 's  happy ! 

70 


sc- 1-]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

Enter  Miss  NEVILLE. 

Miss  NEV.  My  dear  Hastings  1  To  what  unexpected 
good  fortune,  to  what  accident,  am  I  to  ascribe  this 
happy  meeting  ? 

HAST.  Rather,  let  me  ask  the  same  question,  as  I 
could  never  have  hoped  to  meet  my  dear  Constance 
at  an  inn. 

Miss  NEV.  An  inn  !  surely  you  mistake !  my  aunt,  my 
guardian,  lives  here.  What  could  induce  you  to 
think  this  house  an  inn? 

HAST.  My  friend,  Mr.  Marlow,  with  whom  I  came 
down,  and  I,  have  been  sent  here  as  to  an  inn,  I 
assure  you.  A  young  fellow,  whom  we  accidentally 
met  at  a  house  hard  by,  directed  us  hither. 

Miss  NEV.  Certainly  it  must  be  one  of  my  hopeful 
cousin's  tricks,  of  whom  you  have  heard  me  talk  so 
often,  ha !  ha !  ha !  ha ! 

HAST.  He  whom  your  aunt  intends  for  you  ?  He  of 
whom  I  have  such  just  apprehensions  ? 

Miss  NEV.  You  have  nothing  to  fear  from  him,  I 
assure  you.  You  'd  adore  him,  if  you  knew  how 
heartily  he  despises  me.  My  aunt  knows  it  too,  and 
has  undertaken  to  court  me  for  him ;  and  actually 
begins  to  think  she  has  made  a  conquest. 

HAST.  Thou  dear  dissembler!  You  must  know,  my 
Constance,  I  have  just  seized  this  happy  opportunity 
of  my  friend's  visit  here,  to  get  admittance  into  the 
family.  The  horses  that  carried  us  down  are  now 
fatigued  with  their  journey ;  but  they  '11  soon  be 


C 


3 


TO 


P>r5> 

-A^ 

fitofi 


ss  yieoille,  6y  all  that' s  happy! 

ACT  2.      SCENE  I 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

refreshed  ;  and  then,  if  my  dearest  girl  will  trust  in 
her  faithful  Hastings,  we  shall  soon  be  landed  in 
France;  where,  even  among  slaves,  the  laws  of 
marriage  are  respected. 

Miss  NEV.  I  have  often  told  you,  that  though  ready 
to  obey  you,  I  yet  should  leave  my  little  fortune 
behind  with  reluctance.  The  greatest  part  of  it  was 
left  me  by  my  uncle,  the  India  director,  and  chiefly 
consists  in  jewels.  I  have  been  for  some  time 
persuading  my  aunt  to  let  me  wear  them.  I  fancy  I 
am  very  near  succeeding.  The  instant  they  are  put 
into  my  possession,  you  shall  find  me  ready  to  make 
them  and  myself  yours. 

HAST.  Perish  the  baubles!  Your  person  is  all  I 
desire.  In  the  meantime,  my  friend  Marlow  must 
not  be  let  into  his  mistake ;  I  know  the  strange 
reserve  of  his  temper  is  such,  that  if  abruptly 
informed  of  it,  he  would  instantly  quit  the  house, 
before  our  plan  was  ripe  for  execution. 

Miss  NEV.  But  how  shall  we  keep  him  in  the  decep- 
tion? Miss  Hardcastle  is  just  returned  from 
walking ;  what  if  we  still  continue  to  deceive  him  ? 
This,  this  way [They  confer. 

Enter  MARLOW. 

MARL.  The  assiduities  of  these  good  people  tease  me 
beyond  bearing.  My  host  seems  to  think  it  ill 
manners  to  leave  me  alone,  and  so  he  claps  not  only 
himself,  but  his  old-fashioned  wife  on  my  back. 

75 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer      [ACT  n. 

They  talk  of  coming  to  sup  with  us  too ;  and  then,  I 
suppose,  we  are  to  run  the  gauntlet  through  all  the 
rest  of  the  family.  What  have  we  got  here  ? 

HAST.  My  dear  Charles !  Let  me  congratulate  you ! 
The  most  fortunate  accident  I  Who  do  you  think  is 
just  alighted  ? 

MARL.  Cannot  guess. 

HAST.  Our  mistresses,  boy,  Miss  Hardcastle  and  Miss 
Neville.  Give  me  leave  to  introduce  Miss  Con- 
stance Neville  to  your  acquaintance.  Happening 
to  dine  in  the  neighbourhood,  they  called,  on  their 
return,  to  take  fresh  horses  here.  Miss  Hardcastle 
has  just  stepped  into  the  next  room,  and  will  be 
back  in  an  instant.  Wasn't  it  lucky,  eh  ? 

MARL.  \A 'side.]  I  have  just  been  mortified  enough,  of 
all  conscience,  and  here  comes  something  to  com- 
plete my  embarrassment. 

HAST.  Well,  but  wasn't  it  the  most  fortunate  thing  in 
the  world  ? 

MARL.  Oh !  yes.  Very  fortunate — a  most  joyful 
encounter.  But  our  dresses,  George,  you  know,  are 
in  disorder.  What  if  we  should  postpone  the 
happiness  till  to-morrow?  To-morrow,  at  her  own 
house ;  it  will  be  every  bit  as  convenient,  and  rather 
more  respectful.  To-morrow  let  it  be. 

[Offering  to  go. 

Miss  NEV.  By  no  means,  sir.  Your  ceremony  will  dis- 
please her.  The  disorder  of  your  dress  will  show  the 
ardour  of  your  impatience ;  besides,  she  knows  you 
are  in  the  house,  and  will  permit  you  to  see  her. 


sc- 1-]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

MARL.  Oh!    how  shall    I   support   it?     Hem!    hem! 

Hastings,  you  must  not  go.     You  are  to  assist  me, 

you  know.     I  shall  be  confoundedly  ridiculous.     Yet 

hang  it !     I  '11  take  courage.     Hem  ! 
HAST.  Pshaw,  man !  it 's  but  the  first  plunge,  and  all 's 

over.     She  's  but  a  woman,  you  know. 
MARL.   And  of  all  women,  she  that  I  dread  most  to 

encounter. 


Enter  Miss  HARDCASTLE  as  returning  from 
walking,  in  a  bonnet,  etc. 

HAST.  {Introducing  him.]  Miss  Hardcastle  —  Mr. 
Marlow.  I  'm  proud  of  bringing  two  persons  of 
such  merit  together,  that  only  want  to  know,  to 
esteem  each  other. 

Miss  HARD.  [Aside.]  Now,  for  meeting  my  modest 
gentleman  with  a  demure  face,  and  quite  in  his  own 
manner.  \After  a  pause,  in  which  he  appears  'very 
uneasy  and  disconcerted]  I  'm  glad  of  your  safe 
arrival,  sir.  I'm  told  you  had  some  accidents  by 
the  way. 

MARL.  Only  a  few,  madam.  Yes,  we  had  some.  Yes, 
madam,  a  good  many  accidents  ;  but  should  be  sorry 
— madam — or  rather  glad  of  any  accidents — that  are 
so  agreeably  concluded.  Hem ! 

HAST.  [To  him]  You  never  spoke  better  in  your 
whole  life.  Keep  it  up,  and  I'll  ensure  you  the 
victory. 

Miss  HARD.    I'm  afraid  you  flatter,  sir.     You,  that 

77 


(I 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

have  seen  so  much  of  the  finest  company,  can 
find  little  entertainment  in  an  obscure  corner  of  the 
country. 

MARL.  [Gathering  courage.]  I  have  lived,  indeed,  in 
the  world,  madam ;  but  I  have  kept  very  little 
company.  I  have  been  but  an  observer  upon  life, 
madam,  while  others  were  enjoying  it. 

Miss  NEV.  But  that,  I  am  told,  is  the  way  to  enjoy 
it  at  last. 

HAST.  [To  him.]  Cicero  never  spoke  better.  Once 
more,  and  you  are  confirmed  in  assurance  for  ever. 

MARL.  [To  him.]  Hem!  Stand  by  me,  then;  and 
when  I  'm  down,  throw  in  a  word  or  two,  to  set  me 
up  again. 

Miss  HARD.  An  observer,  like  you,  upon  life,  were,  I 
fear,  disagreeably  employed,  since  you  must  have 
had  much  more  to  censure  than  to  approve. 

MARL.  Pardon  me,  madam.  I  was  always  willing  to 
be  amused.  The  folly  of  most  people  is  rather  an 
object  of  mirth  than  uneasiness. 

HAST.  [To  him]  Bravo,  bravo !  Never  spoke  so  well 
in  your  whole  life.  Well!  [To  Miss  HARD.] — 
Miss  Hardcastle,  I  see  that  you  and  Mr.  Marlow  are 
going  to  be  very  good  company.  I  believe  our 
being  here  will  but  embarrass  the  interview. 

MARL.  Not  in  the  least,  Mr.  Hastings.  We  like  your 
company  of  all  things.  [To  him] — Zounds  !  George, 
sure  you  won't  go — how  can  you  leave  us  ? 

HAST.  Our  presence  will  but  spoil  conversation,  so 
we'll  retire  to  the  next  room.  [To  him] — You  don't 
L  81 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer      [ACT  n. 

consider,  man,  that  we  are  to  manage  a  little  t£te-a- 

tete  of  our  own.  [Exeunt. 

Miss    HARD.    {.After  a  pause.]     But   you    have    not 

been  wholly  an  observer,  I  presume,  sir :  the  ladies, 

I    should   hope,  have  employed  some  part  of  your 

addresses. 
MARL.  {Relapsing  into  timidity '.]  Pardon  me,  madam, 

I — I — I    as    yet    have    studied — only — to — deserve 

them. 
Miss  HARD.  And  that,  some  say,  is  the  very  worst 

way  to  obtain  them. 
MARL.   Perhaps  so,  madam.     But  I  love  to  converse 

only  with  the  more  grave  and  sensible  part  of  the 

sex.     But  I  'm  afraid  I  grow  tiresome. 
Miss  HARD.  Not  at  all,  sir ;  there  is  nothing  I  like  so 

much  as  grave  conversation  myself.     I  could  hear  it 

for  ever.     Indeed,  I  have  often  been  surprised  how 

a  man  of  sentiment  could  ever  admire  those  light, 

airy  pleasures,  where  nothing  reaches  the  heart. 
MARL.  It 's — a  disease — of  the  mind,  madam.     In  the 

variety  of  tastes  there  must  be  some,  who,  wanting  a 

relish — for — um — a — um. 
Miss  HARD.  I  understand  you,  sir.     There  must  be 

some,  who,  wanting  a  relish  for  refined  pleasures, 

pretend  to  despise  what  they  are  incapable  of  tasting. 
MARL.    My    meaning,   madam,   but    infinitely    better 

expressed.    And  I  can't  help  observing — a 

Miss  HARD.  {Aside^\  Who   could   ever   suppose  this 

fellow  impudent  upon  some  occasions?     {To  him.~\ 

— You  were  going  to  observe,  sir 

82 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

MARL.  I  was  observing,  madam — I  protest,  madam,  I 

forget  what  I  was  going  to  observe. 
Miss  HARD.  {Aside^  I  vow,  and  so  do  I.    \To  him.'] — 

You  were  observing,  sir,  that  in  this  age  of  hypocrisy 

— something  about  hypocrisy,  sir. 
MARL.  Yes,  madam ;    in  this  age  of  hypocrisy  there 

are   few  who,    upon    strict    inquiry,    do    not  —  a  — 

a — a 

Miss  HARD.  I  understand  you  perfectly,  sir. 

MARL.  \Aside^\  Indeed !  and  that 's  more  than  I  do 

myself. 
Miss  HARD.^YOU  mean  that,  in  this  hypocritical  age, 

there  are  few  that  do  not  condemn  in   public  what 

they  practise  in  private,  and  think  they  pay  every 

debt  to  virtue  when  they  praise  it.  t  \ 
MARL.  True,  madam ;  those  who  have  most  virtue  _in^ 

their  mouths  have  least  of  it  hPtEeir' "bosoms,     But 

I  'm  sure  I  tire  you,  madam. 
Miss  HARD.  Not  in  the  least,  sir;  there's  something 

so  agreeable,  and  spirited,  in  your  manner ;  such  life 

and  force — pray,  sir,  go  on. 
MARL.    Yes,    madam ;    I    was   saying — that   there   are 

some    occasions — when    a    total   want    of    courage, 

madam,  destroys  all   the — and  puts  us — upon  a — 

a^ 
a 

Miss  HARD.  I  agree  with  you  entirely ;  a  want  of 
courage  upon  some  occasions,  assumes  the  appear- 
ance of  ignorance,  and  betrays  us  when  we  most 
want  to  excel.  I  beg  you  '11  proceed. 

MARL.  Yes,   madam ;  morally  speaking,  madam — But 

83 


LUhat  do  you  follow  me  for,  Cousin  Con  ? 

ACT  2.     SCENE  f. 


sc.  i.]          She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

I  see  Miss  Neville  expecting  us  in  the  next  room. 

I  would  not  intrude  for  the  world. 
Miss  HARD.  I  protest,  sir,  I  never  was  more  agreeably 

entertained  in  all  my  life.     Pray  go  on. 
MARL.  Yes,  madam ;  I  was — But  she  beckons  us  to 

join  her.     Madam,  shall  I  do  myself  the  honour  to 

attend  you  ? 

Miss  HARD.  Well,  then,  I  '11  follow. 
MARL.  \_Aside^\  This  pretty  smooth  dialogue  has  done 

for  me.  \_Exit. 

Miss  HARDCASTLE,  sola. 

Miss  HARD.  Ha!  ha!  ha!  Was  there  ever  such  a 
sober,  sentimental  interview ?  I'm  certain  he  scarce 
looked  in  my  face  the  whole  time.  Yet  the  fellow, 
but  for  his  unaccountable  bashfulness,  is  pretty  well 
too.  He  has  good  sense ;  but  then,  so  buried  in  his 
fears,  that  it  fatigues  one  more  than  ignorance.  If 
I  could  teach  him  a  little  confidence,  it  would  be 
doing  somebody,  that  I  know  of,  a  piece  of  service. 
But  who  is  that  somebody  ? — that  is  a  question  I  can 
scarce  answer.  \Exit. 

Enter  TONY  and  Miss  NEVILLE,  followed  by 
MRS.  HARDCASTLE  and  HASTINGS. 

TONY.  What  do  you  follow  me  for,  Cousin  Con?  I 
wonder  you  're  not  ashamed  to  be  so  very  engaging. 

Miss  NEV.  I  hope,  cousin,  one  may  speak  to  one's 
own  relations,  and  not  be  to  blame  ? 

8? 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer      [ACT  n. 

TONY.  Ay,  but  I  know  what  sort  of  a  relation  you 
want  to  make  me,  though ;  but  it  won't  do.  I  tell 
you,  Cousin  Con,  it  won't  do,  so  I  beg  you  '11  keep 
your  distance  ;  I  want  no  nearer  relationship. 

\Shefollows,  coquetting  him  to  the  back-scene. 

MRS.  HARD.  Well !  I  vow,  Mr.  Hastings,  you  are  very 
entertaining.  There 's  nothing  in  the  world  I  love 
to  talk  of  so  much  as  London,  and  the  fashions, 
though  I  was  never  there  myself. 

HAST.  Never  there !  You  amaze  me !  From  your 
air  and  manner,  I  concluded  you  had  been  bred  all 
your  life  either  at  Ranelagh,  St.  James's,  or  Tower 
Wharf. 

MRS.  HARD.  Oh !  sir,  you  're  only  pleased  to  say  so. 
We  country  persons  can  have  no  manner  at  all.  I  'm 
in  love  with  the  town,  and  that  serves  to  raise  me 
above  some  of  our  neighbouring  rustics ;  but  who 
can  have  a  manner,  that  has  never  seen  the  Pantheon, 
the  Grotto  Gardens,  the  Borough,  and  such  places 
where  the  nobility  chiefly  resort  ?  All  I  can  do  is  to 
enjoy  London  at  second-hand.  I  take  care  to  know 
every  t£te-a-t£te  from  the  Scandalous  Magazine,  and 
have  all  the  fashions,  as  they  come  out,  in  a  letter 
from  the  two  Miss  Rickets  of  Crooked  Lane.  Pray, 
how  do  you  like  this  head,  Mr.  Hastings  ? 

HAST.  Extremely  elegant  and  dtgagde,  upon  my  word, 
madam.  Your  friseur  is  a  Frenchman,  I  suppose  ? 

MRS.  HARD.  I  protest  I  dressed  it  myself  from  a  print 
in    the   Ladies'    Memorandum    Book    for    the    last 
year. 
88 


of  ' 


6y  my  Jcc     as 


/Sack  fa  baak,  my  pretties,  t/iat  y/lr. 
may  see  you. 


sc.  L]          She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

HAST.  Indeed !  such  a  head  in  a  side-box,  at  the  play- 
house, would  draw  as  many  gazers  as  my  Lady 
Mayoress  at  a  city  ball. 

MRS.  HARD.  I  vow,  since  inoculation  began  there  is 
no  such  thing  to  be  seen  as  a  plain  woman ;  so  one 
must  dress  a  little  particular,  or  one  may  escape  in 
the  crowd. 

HAST.  But  that  can  never  be  your  case,  madam,  in 
any  dress.  [Bowing.} 

MRS.  HARD.  Yet  what  signifies  my  dressing  when  I 
have  such  a  piece  of  antiquity  by  my  side  as  Mr. 
Hardcastle  ?  All  I  can  say  will  not  argue  down  a 
single  button  from  his  clothes.  I  have  often  wanted 
him  to  throw  off  his  great  flaxen  wig,  and  where  he 
was  bald  to  plaster  it  over,  like  my  Lord  Pately, 
with  powder. 

HAST.  You  are  right,  madam  ;  for  as  among  the  ladies, 
there  are  none  ugly,  so  among  the  men  there  are 
none  old. 

MRS.  HARD.  But  what  do  you  think  his  answer  was  ? 
Why,  with  his  usual  Gothic  vivacity,  he  said,  I  only 
wanted  him  to  throw  off  his  wig,  to  convert  it  into  a 
t£te  for  my  own  wearing. 

HAST.  Intolerable!  At  your  age  you  may  wear  what 
you  please,  and  it  must  become  you. 

MRS.  HARD.  Pray,  Mr.  Hastings,  what  do  you  take  to 
be  the  most  fashionable  age  about  town  ? 

HAST.  Some  time  ago,  forty  was  all  the  mode ;  but 
I  'm  told  the  ladies  intend  to  bring  up  fifty  for  the 
ensuing  winter. 

93 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer      [ACT  n. 

MRS.  HARD.  Seriously !  then  I  shall  be  too  young  for 

the  fashion. 
HAST.  No  lady  begins  now  to  put  on  jewels  till  she's 

past  forty.      For  instance,  Miss  there,  in   a   polite 

circle,  would  be  considered  as  a  child,  as  a  mere 

maker  of  samplers. 
MRS.  HARD.  And  yet    Mrs.   Niece   thinks  herself  as 

much  a  woman,  and  is  as  fond  of  jewels,  as  the 

oldest  of  us  all. 
HAST.  Your  niece,  is  she  ?  and  that  young  gentleman  a 

brother  of  yours,  I  should  presume  ? 
MRS.   HARD.    My  son,   sir.      They  are  contracted  to 

each  other.     Observe  their   little  sports.     They  fall 

in  and  out  ten  times  a  day,  as  if  they  were  man  and 

wife  already.     [To  them.] — Well,  Tony,  child,  what 

soft  things  are  you  saying  to  your  cousin  Constance 

this  evening  ? 
TONY.  I  have  been  saying  no  soft  things  ;  but  that  it 's 

very  hard  to  be  followed  about  so.     Ecod,  I  Ve  not 

a  place  in  the  house  now  that 's  left  to  myself,  but 

the  stable. 
MRS.  HARD.    Never  mind  him,  Con,  my  dear.     He 's 

in  another  story  behind  your  back. 
Miss  NEV.  There 's  something  generous  in  my  cousin's 

manner.     He  falls  out  before  faces  to  be  forgiven  in 

private. 

TONY.  That 's  a  confounded — crack. 
MRS.  HARD.    Ah!    he's  a  sly  one.     Don't  you   think 

they're    like    each    other    about    the    mouth,    Mr. 

Hastings  ?     The  Blenkinsop  mouth  to  a  T.     They  're 
94 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

of  a  size,  too.     Back  to  back,  my  pretties,  that  Mr. 
Hastings  may  see  you.     Come,  Tony. 

TONY.  You  had  as  good  not  make  me,  I  tell  you. 
[Measuring.} 

Miss  NEV.  Oh  !  he  has  almost  cracked  my  head. 

MRS.  HARD.  Oh,  the  monster!  For  shame,  Tony. 
You  a  man,  and  behave  so ! 

TONY.  If  I  'm  a  man,  let  me  have  my  fortin.  Ecod, 
I  '11  not  be  made  a  fool  of  no  longer. 

MRS.  HARD.  Is  this,  ungrateful  boy,  all  that  I  'm  to 
get  for  the  pains  I  have  taken  in  your  education  ?  I 
that  have  rocked  you  in  your  cradle,  and  fed  that 
pretty  mouth  with  a  spoon  ?  Did  not  I  work  that 
waistcoat  to  make  you  genteel  ?  Did  not  I  prescribe 
for  you  every  day,  and  weep  while  the  receipt  was 
operating  ? 

TONY.  Ecod,  you  had  reason  to  weep,  for  you  have 
been  dosing  me  ever  since  I  was  born.  I  have  gone 
through  every  receipt  in  the  Complete  Huswife  ten 
times  over ;  and  you  have  thoughts  of  coursing  me 
through  Quincy  next  spring.  But,  ecod,  I  tell  you, 
I  '11  not  be  made  a  fool  of  no  longer. 

MRS.  HARD.  Wasn't  it  all  for  your  good,  viper? 
Wasn't  it  all  for  your  good  ? 

TONY.  I  wish  you'd  let  me  and  my  good  alone, 
then.  Snubbing  this  way,  when  I  'm  in  spirits.  If 
I  'm  to  have  any  good,  let  it  come  of  itself ;  not  to 
keep  dinging  it,  dinging  it  into  one  so. 

MRS.  HARD.  That 's  false ;  I  never  see  you  when  you 
are  in  spirits.  No,  Tony,  you  then  go  to  the  ale- 

95 


c 


S/  haoe  seen  her  and  sister  cry  ooer  a  boot? 
for  an  hour  together. 

ACT  2.    SCENE  i 


sc.  i.]          She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

house,  or  kennel.  I  'm  never  to  be  delighted  with 
your  agreeable  wild  notes,  unfeeling  monster ! 

TONY.  Ecod,  mamma,  your  own  notes  are  the  wildest 
of  the  two. 

MRS.  HARD.  Was  ever  the  like !  But  I  see  he  wants 
to  break  my  heart,  I  see  he  does. 

HAST.  Dear  madam,  permit  me  to  lecture  the  young 
gentleman  a  little.  I  'm  certain  I  can  persuade  him 
to  his  duty. 

MRS.  HARD.  Well !  I  must  retire.  Come,  Constance, 
my  love.  You  see,  Mr.  Hastings,  the  wretched- 
ness of  my  situation.  Was  ever  poor  woman  so 
plagued  with  a  dear,  sweet,  pretty,  provoking, 
undutiful  boy  ? 

\Exeunt  MRS.  HARDCASTLE  and  Miss  NEVILLE. 

HASTINGS.    TONY. 
TONY.  [Singing. 1 

There  was  a  young  man  riding  by, 
And  fain  would  have  his  will. 

Rang  do  didlo  dee. 

Don't  mind  her.  Let  her  cry.  It 's  the  comfort  of  her 
heart.  I  have  seen  her  and  sister  cry  over  a  book 
for  an  hour  together ;  and  they  said  they  liked  the 
book  the  better  the  more  it  made  them  cry. 

HAST.  Then  you  're  no  friend  to  the  ladies,  I  find,  my 
pretty  young  gentleman. 

TONY.  That 's  as  I  find  'um. 

HAST.  Not  to  her  of  your  mother's  choosing,  I  dare 

99 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer      [ACT  n. 

answer :  and  yet  she  appears  to  me  a  pretty,  well- 
tempered  girl. 

TONY.  That's  because  you  don't  know  her  as  well 
as  I.  Ecod,  I  know  every  inch  about  her,  and 
there's  not  a  more  bitter,  cantankerous  toad  in  all 
Christendom. 

HAST,  [si side.}     Pretty  encouragement  this  for  a  lover ! 

TONY.  I  have  seen  her  since  the  height  of  that.  She 
has  as  many  tricks  as  a  hare  in  a  thicket,  or  a  colt 
the  first  day's  breaking. 

HAST.  To  me  she  appears  sensible  and  silent. 

TONY.  Ay,  before  company.  But  when  she 's  with  her 
playmates,  she 's  as  loud  as  a  hog  in  a  gate. 

HAST.  But  there  is  a  meek  modesty  about  her  that 
charms  me. 

TONY.  Yes ;  but  curb  her  never  so  little,  she  kicks  up, 
and  you  're  flung  in  a  ditch. 

HAST.  Well,  but  you  must  allow  her  a  little  beauty. 
Yes,  you  must  allow  her  some  beauty. 

TONY.  Bandbox!  She's  all  a  made-up  thing,  mun. 
Ah !  could  you  but  see  Bet  Bouncer,  of  these  parts, 
you  might  then  talk  of  beauty.  Ecod,  she  has  two 
eyes  as  black  as  sloes,  and  cheeks  as  broad  and  red 
as  a  pulpit  cushion.  She  'd  make  two  of  she. 

HAST.  Well,  what  say  you  to  a  friend  that  would  take 
this  bitter  bargain  off  your  hands  ? 

TONY.  Anon  ! 

HAST.  Would  you  thank  him  that  would  take  Miss 
Neville,  and  leave  you  to  happiness  and  your  dear 
Betsy  ? 
100 


roar 


TONY.  Ay  ;  but  where  is  there  such  a  friend  ?  for  who 

would  take  her? 
HAST.  I  am  he.     If  you  but  assist  me,  I  '11  engage  to 

ship  her  off  to   France,   and  you  shall  never  hear 

more  of  her. 
TONY.  Assist  you !     Ecod,  I  will,  to  the  last  drop  of 

my  blood.     I  '11  clap  a  pair  of  horses  to  your  chaise 

101 


/ 

She  Stoops  to   Conquer      [ACT  n. 

that  shall  trundle  you  off  in  a  twinkling ;  and  may 

be,  get  you  a  part  of  her  fortin  beside,  in  jewels, 

that  you  little  dream  of. 
HAST.  My    dear  'squire,    this    looks    like    a    lad    of 

spirit. 
TONY.  Come  along  then,  and  you  shall  see  more  of  my 

spirit  before  you  have  done  with  me.  [Singing. 

We  are  the  boys 

That  fears  no  noise 

Where  the  thundering  cannons  roar. 

\Exeitnt. 


SCENE  I 
Enter  HARDCASTLE,  solus. 

HARD.  What  could  my  old  friend  Sir  Charles  mean, 
by  recommending  his  son  as  the  modestest  young 
man  in  town?  To  me  he  appears  the  most 
impudent  piece  of  brass  that  ever  spoke  with  a 
tongue.  He  has  taken  possession  of  the  easy-chair 
by  the  fireside  already.  He  took  off  his  boots  in 
the  parlour,  and  desired  me  to  see  them  taken  care 
of.  I  'm  desirous  to  know  how  his  impudence 
affects  my  daughter.  She  will  certainly  be  shocked 
at  it. 

Enter  Miss  HARDCASTLE,  plainly  dressed. 

HARD.  Well,  my  Kate,  I  see  you  have  changed  your 

dress,  as  I  bid  you ;  and  yet,  I  believe,  there  was  no 

great  occasion. 
Miss  HARD.  I   find  such  a  pleasure,  sir,  in  obeying 

your   commands,    that    I    take   care   to   obey   them 

without  ever  debating  their  propriety. 
HARD.  And   yet,  Kate,  I    sometimes   give   you   some 

cause,  particularly  when  I  recommended  my  modest 

gentleman  to  you  as  a  lover  to-day. 

o  105 


Cue//,  my  'ZsS.afe,  3?  see  you  haoe  changed 

your  dress,  as  S/  <^/ic/  you. 

ACT  3.      SCENE  i 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

Miss    HARD.  You    taught    me   to    expect   something 

extraordinary,  and    I    find  the  original  exceeds  the 

description. 
HARD.  I  was  never  so  surprised  in  my  life !     He  has 

quite  confounded  all  my  faculties ! 
Miss  HARD.  I  never  saw  anything  like  it :  and  a  man 

of  the  world,  too  ! 
HARD.  Ay,   he   learned   it   all   abroad.  tf  What   a   fool 

was  I  to  think  a  young  man  could   learn  modesty 

by  travelling!      He  might  as  soon   learn  wit  at  a 

masquerade.  \\ 

Miss  HARD.  It  seems  all  natural  to  him. 
HARD.  A  good  deal  assisted  by  bad  company,  and  a 

French  dancing-master. 
Miss    HARD.  Sure   you    mistake,   papa!      A   French 

dancing-master  could   never  have  taught  him   that 

timid    look — that    awkward    address — that    bashful 

manner 

HARD.  Whose  look  ?  whose  manner,  child  ? 

Miss  HARD.  Mr.  Marlow's :   his  mauvaise  honte,  his 

timidity,  struck  me  at  the  first  sight. 
HARD.  Then  your  first  sight  deceived  you  ;  for  I  think 

him  one  of  the  most  brazen  first-sights  that  ever 

astonished  my  senses. 
Miss  HARD.  Sure,  sir,  you  rally!     I    never  saw  any 

one  so  modest. 
HARD.  And  can  you  be  serious?      I  never  saw  such 

a  bouncing,  swaggering  puppy  since    I  was  born ! 

Bully  Dawson  was  but  a  fool  to  him. 
Miss  HARD.  Surprising !     He  met  me  with  a  respect- 

109 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer     [ACT  m. 

ful  bow,  a  stammering  voice,  and  a  look  fixed  on  the 
ground. 

HARD.  He  met  me  with  a  loud  voice,  a  lordly  air,  and 
a  familiarity  that  made  my  blood  freeze  again. 

Miss  HARD.  He  treated  me  with  diffidence  and 
respect ;  censured  the  manners  of  the  age ;  admired 
the  prudence  of  girls  that  never  laughed ;  tired  me 
with  apologies  for  being  tiresome ;  then  left  the 
room  with  a  bow,  and  '  Madam,  I  would  not  for  the 
world  detain  you.' 

HARD.  He  spoke  to  me  as  if  he  knew  me  all  his  life 
before ;  asked  twenty  questions,  and  never  waited 
for  an  answer ;  interrupted  my  best  remarks  with 
some  silly  pun ;  and  when  I  was  in  my  best  story 
of  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  and  Prince  Eugene,  he 
asked  if  I  had  not  a  good  hand  at  making  punch. 
Yes,  Kate,  he  asked  your  father  if  he  was  a  maker 
of  punch ! 

Miss  HARD.  One  of  us  must  certainly  be  mistaken. 

HARD.  If  he  be  what  he  has  shown  himself,  I  'm 
determined  he  shall  never  have  my  consent. 

Miss  HARD.  And  if  he  be  the  sullen  thing  I  take  him, 
he  shall  never  have  mine. 

HARD.  In  one  thing  then  we  are  agreed — to  reject  him. 

Miss  HARD.  Yes.  But  upon  conditions.  For  if  you 
should  find  him  less  impudent,  and  I  more  presum- 
ing ;  if  you  find  him  more  respectful,  and  I  more 
importunate — I  don't  know — the  fellow  is  well 
enough  for  a  man.  Certainly,  we  don't  meet  many 
such  at  a  horse-race  in  the  country, 
no 


sc.  i.]          She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

HARD.  If  we  should  find  him  so  —  but  that's  impos- 
sible. The  first  appearance  has  done  my  business. 
1  'm  seldom  deceived  in  that. 

Miss  HARD.  And  yet  there  may  be  many  good 
qualities  under  that  first  appearance. 

HARD.  Ay,  when  a  girl  finds  a  fellow's  outside  to  her 
taste,  she  then  sets  about  guessing  the  rest  of  his 
furniture.  With  her  a  smooth  face  stands  for 


sense,  and^j^ejrteel_figure_for  every  virtue. 
Miss  HARD.  I  hope,  sir,  a  conversation  begun  with  a 

compliment   to  my  good   sense,  won't  end  with  a 

sneer  at  my  understanding. 
HARD.  Pardon  me,  Kate.     But  if  young  Mr.  Brazen 

can  find  the  art  of  reconciling  contradictions,  he  may 

please  us  both,  perhaps. 
Miss    HARD.    And  as  one  of  us  must  be  mistaken, 

what  if  we  go  to  make  further  discoveries  ? 
HARD.  But  depend  on  't,  I  'm  in  the  right. 
Miss  HARD.  And  depend  on  't,  I  'm  not  much  in  the 

wrong.  \Exeunt. 

Enter  TONY  running  in  with  a  casket. 

TONY.  Ecod,  I  have  got  them  !  Here  they  are.  My 
cousin  Con's  necklaces,  bobs,  and  all.  My  mother 
shan't  cheat  the  poor  souls  out  of  their  fortin,  neither. 
Oh  !  my  genus,  is  that  you  ? 

Enter  HASTINGS. 

HAST.  My  dear  friend,  how  have  you  managed  with 
your  mother?  I  hope  you  have  amused  her  with 

in 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer     [ACT  in. 

pretending  love  for  your  cousin ;  and  that  you  are 
willing  to  be  reconciled  at  last.  Our  horses  will  be 
refreshed  in  a  short  time,  and  we  shall  soon  be  ready 
to  set  off. 

TONY.  And  here's  something  to  bear  your  charges  by 
the  way — [giving  the  caskef] — your  sweetheart's 
jewels.  Keep  them ;  and  hang  those,  I  say,  that 
would  rob  you  of  one  of  them. 

HAST.  But  how  have  you  procured  them  from  your 
mother  ? 

TONY.  Ask  me  no  questions,  and  I  '11  tell  you  no  fibs. 
I  procured  them  by  the  rule  of  thumb.  If  I  had  not 
a  key  to  every  drawer  in  my  mother's  bureau,  how 
could  I  go  to  the  alehouse  so  often  as  I  do?  An 
honest  man  may  rob  himself  of  his  own  at  any 
time. 

HAST.  Thousands  do  it  every  day.  But  to  be  plain 
with  you,  Miss  Neville  is  endeavouring  to  procure 
them  from  her  aunt  this  very  instant.  If  she  succeeds, 
it  will  be  the  most  delicate  way  at  least  of  obtaining 
them. 

TONY.  Well,  keep  them,  till  you  know  how  it  will  be. 
I  know  how  it  will  be,  well  enough ;  she  'd  as  soon 
part  with  the  only  sound  tooth  in  her  head. 

HAST.  But  I  dread  the  effects  of  her  resentment,  when 
she  finds  she  has  lost  them. 

TONY.  Never  you  mind  her  resentment,  leave  me  to 

manage   that.     I    don't   value    her    resentment    the 

bounce    of    a    cracker.      Zounds !     here    they    are. 

Morrice !     Prance !  [Exit  HASTINGS. 

112 


TONY,  MRS.  HARDCASTLE,  Miss  NEVILLE. 

MRS.  HARD.  Indeed,  Constance,  you  amaze  me.  Such 
a  girl  as  you  want  jewels !  It  will  be  time  enough 
for  jewels,  my  dear,  twenty  years  hence  ;  when  your 
beauty  begins  to  want  repairs.  / 

Miss  NEV.  But  what  will  repair  _beauty  at  forty,  will 
certainly  improve  _it_at_twenty,  madajp. 

MRS.  HARD.  Yours,  my  dear,  can  admit  of  none.  That 
natural  blush  is  beyond  a  thousand  ornaments, 
p  113 


G 


reva 

k£j 

jJ 


6ear  witness. 

ACT  3.    SCENE  I. 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

Besides,  child,  jewels  are  quite  out  at  present.  Don't 
you  see  half  the  ladies  of  our  acquaintance,  my  Lady 
Kill-Daylight,  and  Mrs.  Crump,  and  the  rest  of  them, 
carry  their  jewels  to  town,  and  bring  nothing  but 
paste  and  marcasites  back  ? 

Miss  NEV.  But  who  knows,  madam,  but  somebody 
that  shall  be  nameless  would  like  me  best  with  all 
my  little  finery  about  me  ? 

MRS.  HARD.  Consult  your  glass,  my  dear,  and  then 
see  if,  with  such  a  pair  of  eyes,  you  want  any  better 
sparklers.  What  do  you  think,  Tony,  my  dear? 
Does  your  cousin  Con  want  any  jewels,  in  your  eyes, 
to  set  off  her  beauty  ? 

TONY.  That 's  as  thereafter  may  be.     * 

Miss  NEV.  My  dear  aunt,  if  you  knew  how  it  would 
oblige  me. 

MRS.  HARD.  A  parcel  of  old-fashioned  rose  and  table- 
cut  things.  They  would  make  you  look  like  the  court 
of  King  Solomon  at  a  puppet-show.  Besides,  I 
believe  I  can't  readily  come  at  them.  They  may  be 
missing,  for  aught  I  know  to  the  contrary. 

TONY.  {Apart  to  MRS.  HARDCASTLE.]  Then  why 
don't  you  tell  her  so  at  once,  as  she 's  so  longing  for 
them?  Tell  her  they're  lost.  It's  the  only  way 
to  quiet  her.  Say  they're  lost,  and  call  me  to  bear 
witness. 

MRS.  HARD.  [Apart  to  TONY.]  You  know,  my  dear, 
.  I  'm  only  keeping  them  for  you.     So,  if  I  say  they're 
gone,  you'll  bear  me  witness,  will  you?     He!  he! 
he! 

117 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer     [ACT  in. 

TONY.  Never  fear  me.  Ecod,  I'll  say  I  saw  them 
taken  out  with  my  own  eyes. 

Miss  NEV.  I  desire  them  but  for  a  day,  madam.  Just 
to  be  permitted  to  show  them  as  relics,  and  then 
they  may  be  locked  up  again. 

MRS.  HARD.  To  be  plain  with  you,  my  dear  Constance, 
if  I  could  find  them,  you  should  have  them.  They  're 
missing,  I  assure  you.  Lost,  for  aught  I  know ;  but 
we  must  have  patience,  wherever  they  are. 

Miss  NEV.  I  '11  not  believe  it ;  this  is  but  a  shallow 
pretence  to  deny  me.  I  know  they  'Ye  too  valuable 
to  be  so  slightly  kept,  and  as  you  are  to  answer  for 
the  loss 

MRS.  HARD.  Don't  be  alarmed,  Constance ;  if  they  be 
lost,  I  must  restore  an  equivalent.  But  my  son 
knows  they  are  missing,  and  not  to  be  found. 

TONY.  That  I  can  bear  witness  to.  They  are  missing, 
and  not  to  be  found  ;  I  '11  take  my  oath  on 't. 

MRS.  HARD.  You  must  learn  resignation,  my  dear ;  for 
though  we  lose  our  fortune,  yet  we  should  not  lose 
our  patience.  See  me,  how  calm  I  am. 

Miss  NEV.  Ay,  people  are  generally  calm  at  the  mis- 
fortunes of  others. 

MRS.  HARD.  Now,  I  wonder  a  girl  of  your  good  sense 
should  waste  a  thought  upon  such  trumpery.  We 
shall  soon  find  them ;  and,  in  the  meantime,  you 
shall  make  use  of  my  garnets,  till  your  jewels  be 
found. 

Miss  NEV.  I  detest  garnets ! 

MRS.  HARD.  The  most  becoming  things  in  the  world, 
118 


sc.  L]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

to  set  off  a  clear  complexion.  You  have  often  seen 
how  well  they  looked  upon  me.  You  shall  have 
them.  \Exit. 

Miss  NEV.  I  dislike  them  of  all  things.  [To  TONY.] 
You  shan't  stir.  Was  ever  anything  so  provoking? 
to  mislay  my  own  jewels,  and  force  me  to  wear  her 
trumpery ! 

TONY.  Don't  be  a  fool !  If  she  gives  you  the  garnets, 
take  what  you  can  get.  The  jewels  are  your  own 
already.  I  have  stolen  them  out  of  her  bureau, 
and  she  does  not  know  it.  Fly  to  your  spark, 
he'll  tell  you  rrore  of  the  matter.  Leave  me  to 
manage  her. 

Miss  NEV.  My  dear  cousin  ! 

TONY.  Vanish !  She 's  here,  and  has  missed  them 
already.  [Exit  Miss  NEVILLE.]  Zounds !  how  she 
fidgets,  and  spits  about  like  a  Catharine-wheel ! 

Enter  MRS.  HARDCASTLE. 

MRS.  HARD.  Confusion  !  thieves  !  robbers  !  We  are 
cheated,  plundered,  broken  open,  undone ! 

TONY.  What's  the  matter?  what's  the  matter, 
mamma?  I  hope  nothing  has  happened  to  any 
of  the  good  family  ! 

MRS.  HARD.  We  are  robbed !  My  bureau  has  been 
broke  open,  the  jewels  taken  out,  and  I  'm  undone ! 

TONY.  Oh !  is  that  all  ?  Ha !  ha !  ha !  By  the  laws,  I 
never  saw  it  better  acted  in  my  life.  Ecod>  I  thought 
you  was  ruined  in  earnest.  Ha !  ha !  ha ! 

119 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer     [ACT  in. 

MRS.  HARD.    Why,    boy,    I    am    ruined    in    earnest. 

My  bureau    has  been  broken   open,  and  all  taken 

away. 
TONY.  Stick  to  that;  ha!  ha!  ha!  stick  to  that;  I'll 

bear  witness,  you  know  ;  call  me  to  bear  witness. 
MRS.  HARD.  I  tell  you,  Tony,  by  all  that's  precious, 

the  jewels  are  gone,  and  I  shall  be  ruined  for  ever. 
TONY.  Sure,  I  know  they  're  gone,  and  I  am  to  say  so. 
MRS.  HARD.  My  dearest  Tony,  but  hear  me.     They  're 

gone,  I  say. 
TONY.  By  the  laws,  mamma,  you  make  me  for  to  laugh  ; 

ha !  ha !     I  know  who  took  them  well  enough  ;  ha ! 

ha!  ha! 
MRS.  HARD.  Was  there  ever  such  a  blockhead,  that 

can't  tell  the  difference  between  jest  and  earnest? 

I  tell  you  I  'm  not  in  jest,  booby ! 
TONY.  That 's  right,  that 's  right.     You  must  be  in  a 

bitter  passion,  and  then  nobody  will  suspect  either 

of  us.     I  '11  bear  witness  that  they  are  gone. 
MRS.  HARD.  Was   there   ever   such    a   cross-grained 

brute,  that  won't  hear  me!     Can  you  bear  witness 

that  you're  no  better  than  a  fool?    Was  ever  poor 

woman  so  beset  with  fools  on  one  hand,  and  thieves 

on  the  other  ? 

TONY.  I  can  bear  witness  to  that. 
MRS.  HARD.   Bear  witness  again,  you  blockhead  you, 

and  I  '11  turn  you  out  of  the  room  directly.     My  poor 

niece !  what  will  become  of  her  ?     Do  you  laugh,  you 

unfeeling  brute,  as  if  you  enjoyed  my  distress  ? 
TONY.  I  can  bear  witness  to  that. 
1 20 


a/ 


MRS.  HARD.  Do  you  insult  me,  monster  ?     I  '11  teach 

you  to  vex  your  mother,  I  will. 
TONY.  I  can  bear  witness  to  that. 

[He  runs  off,  she  follows  him. 

Q  121 


c 


8 


Jell  me,  Jimple,  fioio  do  you  like  me/ 
present  dress? 


ACT  3.      SCENE  I 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

Enter  Miss  HARDCASTLE  and  Maid. 

Miss  HARD.  What  an  unaccountable  creature  is  that 
brother  of  mine,  to  send  them  to  the  house  as  an 
inn  ;  ha !  ha !  I  don't  wonder  at  his  impudence. 

MAID.  But  what  is  more,  madam,  the  young  gentleman, 
as  you  passed  by  in  your  present  dress,  asked  me  if 
you  were  the  barmaid?  He  mistook  you  for  the 
barmaid,  madam. 

Miss  HARD.  Did  he?  Then,  as  I  live,  I  am  resolved 
to  keep  up  the  delusion.  Tell  me,  Pimple,  how  do 
you  like  my  present  dress  ?  Don't  you  think  I  look 
something  like  Cherry  in  the  '  Beaux'  Stratagem '  ? 

MAID.  It 's  the  dress,  madam,  that  every  lady  wears  in 
the  country,  but  when  she  visits  or  receives  com- 
pany. 

Miss  HARD.  And  are  you  sure  he  does  not  remember 
my  face  or  person  ? 

MAID.  Certain  of  it. 

Miss  HARD.  I  vow,  I  thought  so  ;  for  though  we  spoke 
for  some  time  together,  yet  his  fears  were  such,  that 
he  never  once  looked  up  during  the  interview. 
Indeed,  if  he  had,  my  bonnet  would  have  kept  him 
from  seeing  me. 

MAID.  But  what  do  you  hope  from  keeping  him  in  his 
mistake  ? 

Miss  HARD.  In  the  first  place,  I  shall  be  seen,  and  that 
is  no  small  advantage  to  a  girl  who  brings  her  face 
to  market.  Then  I  shall,  perhaps,  make  an  acquaint- 
ance, and  that's  no  small  victory  gained  over  one 

125 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer     [ACT  in. 

who  never  addresses  any  but  the  wildest  of  her  sex. 
But  my  chief  aim  is  to  take  my  gentleman  off  his 
guard,  and,  like  an  invisible  champion  of  romance, 
examine  the  giant's  force  before  I  offer  to  combat. 

MAID.  But  are  you  sure  you  can  act  your  part,  and 
disguise  your  voice,  so  that  he  may  mistake  that,  as 
he  has  already  mistaken  your  person  ? 

Miss  HARD.  Never  fear  me.  I  think  I  have  got  the 
true  bar  cant. — Did  your  honour  call  ?  Attend  the 
Lion  there. — Pipes  and  tobacco  for  the  Angel. — The 
Lamb  has  been  outrageous  this  half-hour. 

MAID.  It  will  do,  madam.     But  he 's  here. 

{Exit  Maid. 

Enter  MARLOW. 

MARL.  What  a  bawling  in  every  part  of  the  house !  I 
have  scarce  a  moment's  repose.  If  I  go  to  the  best 
room,  there  I  find  my  host  and  his  story.  If  I  fly 
to  the  gallery,  there  we  have  my  hostess,  with  her 
curtsey  down  to  the  ground.  I  have  at  last  got  a 
moment  to  myself,  and  now  for  recollection. 

\lValks  and  muses. 

Miss  HARD.  Did  you  call,  sir  ?  did  your  honour 
call? 

MARL.  [Musing]  As  for  Miss  Hardcastle,  she's  too 
grave  and  sentimental  for  me. 

Miss  HARD.  Did  your  honour  call  ? 
[She  still  places  herself  before  him,  he  turning  away. 

MARL.  No,  child.     [Musing.]  Besides,  from  the  glimpse 
I  had  of  her,  I  think  she  squints. 
126 


sc.  i.]          She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

Miss  HARD.  I  'm  sure,  sir,  I  heard  the  bell  ring. 
MARL.  No,  no.     \Musing."\  I  have  pleased  my  father, 

however,  by  coming  down,  and  I  '11  to-morrow  please 

myself  by  returning. 

[Taking  out  his  tablets,  and  perusing. 
Miss  HARD.  Perhaps  the  other  gentleman  called,  sir. 
MARL.  I  tell  you,  no. 
Miss  HARD.  I  should  be  glad  to  know,  sir.     We  have 

such  a  parcel  of  servants. 
MARL.  No,  no,  I  tell  you.     [Looks  full  in  her  face.] 

Yes,  child,  I  think  I  did  call.     I  wanted — I  wanted 

— I  vow,  child,  you  are  vastly  handsome. 
Miss  HARD.  Oh  !  la,  sir,  you  '11  make  one  ashamed. 
MARL.  Never   saw   a   more   sprightly,    malicious   eye. 

Yes,  yes,  my  dear,  I  did  call.     Have  you  got  any  of 

your — a — what  d'  ye  call  it,  in  the  house  ? 
Miss  HARD.  No,  sir,  we  have  been  out  of  that  these 

ten  days. 
MARL.  One  may  call  in  this  house,   I   find,  to  very 

little  purpose.     Suppose  I  should  call  for  a  taste, 

just   by  way  of  trial,  of  the  nectar  of  your  lips ; 

perhaps  I  might  be  disappointed  in  that,  too. 
Miss  HARD.  Nectar !   nectar !   that 's  a  liquor  there 's 

no  call  for  in  these  parts.     French,  I  suppose.     We 

keep  no  French  wines  here,  sir. 
MARL.  Of  true  English  growth,  I  assure  you. 
Miss  HARD.  Then   it's   odd    I   should   not   know   it. 

We  brew  all  sorts  of  wines  in  this  house,  and  I  have 

lived  here  these  eighteen  years. 

MARL.  Eighteen  years  ?    Why,  one  would  think,  child, 

127 


8 


*iP 

1(01 


^ 
^ 


cfleoer  saw  a  more  sprightly,  malicious  eye. 


sc  i-]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

you  kept  the  bar  before  you  were  born.     How  old 
are  you  ? 

Miss  HARD.  Oh,  sir,  I  must  not  tell  my  age !  They 
say  women  and  music  shoulo^  never  be  dated. 

MARL.  To  guess  at  this  distance,  you  can't  be  much 
above  forty.  [Approaching]  Yet  nearer,  I  don't 
think  so  much.  [Approaching]  By  coming  close 
to  some  women,  they  look  younger  still ;  but  when 

we  come  very  close  indeed 

[Attempting  to  kiss  her. 

Miss  HARD.  Pray,  sir,  keep  your  distance.  One 
would  think  you  wanted  to  know  one's  age  as  they 
do  horses,  by  mark  of  mouth. 

MARL.  I  protest,  child,  you  use  me  extremely  ill.  If 
you  keep  me  at  this  distance,  how  is  it  possible  you 
and  I  can  be  ever  acquainted. 

Miss  HARD.  And  who  wants  to  be  acquainted  with 
you  ?  I  want  no  such  acquaintance,  not  I.  I  'm 
sure  you  did  not  treat  Miss  Hardcastle,  that  was 
here  a  while  ago,  in  this  obstropalous  manner. 
I  '11  warrant  me,  before  her  you  looked  dashed, 
and  kept  bowing  to  the  ground,  and  talked,  for 
all  the  world,  as  if  you  was  before  a  justice  of 
peace. 

MARL.  [Aside.]  Egad !  she  has  hit  it,  sure  enough. 
[To  her] — In  awe  of  her,  child?  Ha!  ha!  ha!  A 
mere  awkward,  squinting  thing ;  no,  no.  I  find  you 
don't  know  me.  I  laughed,  and  rallied  her  a  little  ; 
but  I  was  unwilling  to  be  too  severe.  No,  I  could 
not  be  too  severe. 


ifteep  up  t/ie  spirit  of  the  place. 


ACT  3.      SCENE  l 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

Miss  HARD.  Oh  !  then,  sir,  you  are  a  favourite,  I  find, 
among  the  ladies. 

MARL.  Yes,  my  dear,  a  great  favourite.  And  yet, 
hang  me,  I  don't  see  what  they  find  in  me  to 
follow.  At  the  ladies'  club  in  town,  I  'm  called  their 
agreeable  Rattle.  Rattle,  child,  is  not  my  real  name, 
but  one  I  'm  known  by.  My  name  is  Solomons. 
Mr.  Solomons,  my  dear,  at  your  service. 

[Offering  to  salute  her. 

Miss  HARD.  Hold,  sir ;  you  were  introducing  me  to 
your  club,  not  to  yourself.  And  you  're  so  great  a 
favourite  there,  you  say  ? 

MARL.  Yes,  my  dear;  there's  Mrs.  Mantrap,  Lady 
Betty  Blackleg,  the  Countess  of  Sligo,  Mrs.  Lang- 
horns,  old  Miss  Biddy  Buckskin,  and  your  humble 
servant,  keep  up  the  spirit  of  the  place. 

Miss  HARD.  Then  it 's  a  very  merry  place,  I  suppose. 

MARL.  Yes,  as  merry  as  cards,  suppers,  wine,  and  old 
women  can  make  us. 

Miss  HARD.  And  their  agreeable  Rattle  ;  ha !  ha !  ha ! 

MARL.  [Aside.}  Indeed!  I  don't  quite  like  this  chit. 
She  looks  knowing,  methinks.  [To  her.} — You 
laugh,  child ! 

Miss  HARD.  I  can't  but  laugh  to  think  what  time 
they  all  have  for  minding  their  work  or  their  family. 

MARL.  [Aside}  All 's  well,  she  don't  laugh  at  me. 
[To  her} — Do  you  ever  work,  child  ? 

Miss  HARD.  Ay,  sure.  There's  not  a  screen  or  a 
quilt  in  the  whole  house  but  what  can  bear  witness 
to  that. 

135 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer     [ACT  in. 

MARL.  Odso !  Then  you  must  show  me  your  em- 
broidery. I  embroider,  and  draw  patterns  myself  a 
little.  If  you  want  a  judge  of  your  work,  you  must 
apply  to  me.  [Seising  her  hand. 

Miss  HARD.  Ay,  but  the  colours  don't  look  well  by 
candle-light.  You  shall  see  all  in  the  morning. 

[Struggling. 

MARL.  And  why  not  now,  my  angel?  Such  beauty 
fires  beyond  the  power  of  resistance.  Pshaw !  the 
father  here!  My  old  luck!  I  never  nicked  seven, 
that  I  did  not  throw  ames-ace  three  times  following. 

MARLOW. 


Enter  HARDCASTLE,  who  stands  in  surprise. 

HARD.  So,  madam !  So  I  find  this  is  your  modest 
lover !  This  is  your  humble  admirer,  that  kept  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  ground,  and  only  adored  at  humble 
distance.  Kate,  Kate !  art  thou  not  ashamed  to 
deceive  your  father  so  ? 

Miss  HARD.  Never  trust  me,  dear  papa,  but  he  's  still 
the  modest  man  I  first  took  him  for ;  you  '11  be 
convinced  of  it  as  well  as  I. 

HARD.  By  the  hand  of  my  body,  I  believe  his 
impudence  is  infectious !  Didn't  I  see  him  seize 
your  hand?  didn't  I  see  him  haul  you  about  like  a 
milkmaid  ?  and  now  you  talk  of  his  respect  and  his 
modesty,  forsooth ! 

Miss  HARD.  But  if  I  shortly  convince  you  of  his 
modesty ;  that  he  has  only  the  faults  that  will  pass 
136 


e77)70  toftx)  no?  near    TTJ.U  a-nge  ( 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer      [ACT  in. 

off  with  time,  and  the  virtues  that  will  improve  with 

age,  I  hope  you  '11  forgive  him. 
HARD.  The  girl  would   actually  make  one   run  mad  ; 

I  tell  you,  I  '11  not  be  convinced.     I  am  convinced. 

He  has  scarcely  been  three  hours  in  the  house,  and 

he  has  already  encroached  on    all    my  prerogatives 

You  may  like  his  impudence,  and  call  it  modesty ; 

but  my  son-in-law,  madam,  must  have  very  different 

qualifications. 
Miss  HARD.  Sir,   I   ask  but   this   night   to   convince 

you. 
HARD.  You  shall  not  have  half  the  time ;  for  I  have 

thoughts  of  turning  him  out  this  very  hour. 
Miss  HARD.  Give  me  that  hour,  then,  and  I  hope  to 

satisfy  you. 
HARD.  Well,  an  hour  let  it  be,  then.     But  I  '11  have  no 

trifling  with  your  father.     All  fair  and  open,  do  you 

mind  me? 
Miss  HARD.  I  hope,  sir,  you  have  ever  found  that  I 

considered  your  commands  as  my  pride ;  for  your 

kindness   is   such   that   my  duty  as  yet   has   been 

inclination.  {Exeunt. 


SCENE    I 
Enter  HASTINGS  and  Miss  NEVILLE. 

HAST.  You  surprise  me !  Sir  Charles  Marlovv  ex- 
pected here  this  night  ?  Where  have  you  had  your 
information  ? 

Miss  NEV.  You  may  depend  upon  it.  I  just  saw 
his  letter  to  Mr.  Hardcastle,  in  which  he  tells 
him  he  intends  setting  out  a  few  hours  after  his 
son. 

HAST.  Then,  my  Constance,  all  must  be  completed 
before  he  arrives.  He  knows  me ;  and  should  he 
find  me  here,  would  discover  my  name,  and  perhaps 
my  designs,  to  the  rest  of  the  family. 

Miss  NEV.  The  jewels,  I  hope,  are  safe. 

HAST.  Yes,  yes.  I  have  sent  them  to  Marlow,  who 
keeps  the  keys  of  our  baggage.  In  the  meantime, 
I  '11  go  to  prepare  matters  for  our  elopement.  I  have 
had  the  squire's  promise  of  a  fresh  pair  of  horses : 
and,  if  I  should  not  see  him  again,  will  write  him 
further  directions.  {Exit. 

Miss  NEV.  Well,  success  attend  you.  In  the  mean- 
time, I  '11  go  amuse  my  aunt  with  the  old  pretence  of 
a  violent  passion  for  my  cousin.  \Exit. 

141 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer     [ACT  iv. 

Enter  MARLOW  followed  by  a  Servant. 

MARL.  I  wonder  what  Hastings  could  mean  by  send- 
ing me  so  valuable  a  thing  as  a  casket  to  keep  for 
him,  when  he  knows  the  only  place  I  have  is  the  seat 
of  a  post-coach  at  an  inn-door?  Have  you  deposited 
the  casket  with  the  landlady,  as  I  ordered  you? 
Have  you  put  it  into  her  own  hands  ? 

SERV.  Yes,  your  honour. 

MARL.  She  said  she  'd  keep  it  safe,  did  she  ? 

SERV.  Yes,  she  said  she  'd  keep  it  safe  enough ;  she 
asked  me  how  I  came  by  it,  and  she  said  she  had  a 
great  mind  to  make  me  give  an  account  of  myself. 

[Exit  Servant. 

MARL.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha !  They  're  safe,  however.  What 
an  unaccountable  set  of  beings  have  we  got  amongst  I 
This  little  barmaid,  though,  runs  in  my  head  most 
strangely,  and  drives  out  the  absurdities  of  all  the 
rest  of  the  family.  She 's  mine,  she  must  be  mine, 
or  I  'm  greatly  mistaken. 

Enter  HASTINGS. 

HAST.  Bless  me!  I  quite  forgot  to  tell  her  that  I 
intended  to  prepare  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden. 
Marlow  here,  and  in  spirits,  too ! 

MARL.  Give  me  joy,  George !  Crown  me,  shadow  me 
with  laurels !  Well,  George,  after  all,  we  modest 
fellows  don't  want  for  success  among  the  women. 

HAST.  Some  women,  you  mean.  But  what  success 
142 


sc.  i.]          She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

has  your  honour's  modesty  been  crowned  with  now, 
that  it  grows  so  insolent  upon  us  ? 

MARL.  Didn't  you  see  the  tempting,  brisk,  lovely  little 
thing  that  runs  about  the  house,  with  a  bunch  of 
keys  to  its  girdle  ? 

HAST.  Well,  and  what  then  ? 

MARL.  She's  mine,  you  rogue  you.  Such  fire,  such 
motion,  such  eyes,  such  lips — but,  egad !  she  would 
not  let  me  kiss  them,  though. 

HAST.  But  are  you  so  sure,  so  very  sure  of  her  ? 

MARL.  Why,  man,  she  talked  of  showing  me  her  work 
above  stairs,  and  I  'm  to  improve  the  pattern. 

HAST.  You  have  taken  care,  I  hope,  of  the  casket  I 
sent  you  to  lock  up?  It's  in  safety? 

MARL.  Yes,  yes  ;  it 's  safe  enough.  I  have  taken  care 
of  it.  But  how  could  you  think  the  seat  of  a  post- 
coach,  at  an  inn-door,  a  place  of  safety?  Ah! 
numskull !  I  have  taken  better  precautions  for  you 
than  you  did  for  yourself.  I  have 

HAST.  What? 

MARL.  I  have  sent  it  to  the  landlady  to  keep  for  you. 

HAST.  To  the  landlady! 

MARL.  The  landlady. 

HAST.  You  did ! 

MARL.  I  did.  She's  to  be  answerable  for  its  forth- 
coming, you  know. 

HAST.  Yes,  she'll  bring  it  forth,  with  a  witness. 

MARL.  Wasn't  I  right  ?  I  believe  you  '11  allow  that  I 
acted  prudently  upon  this  occasion. 

HAST.  {Aside.}  He  must  not  see  my  uneasiness. 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer      [ACT  iv. 

MARL.  You  seem  a  little  disconcerted,  though,  me- 
thinks.  Sure  nothing  has  happened. 

HAST.  No,  nothing.  Never  was  in  better  spirits  in 
all  my  life.  And  so  you  left  it  with  the  landlady, 
who,  no  doubt,  very  readily  undertook  the  charge  ? 

MARL.  Rather  too  readily.  For  she  not  only  kept 
the  casket ;  but,  through  her  great  precaution,  was 
going  to  keep  the  messenger  too.  Ha!  ha !  ha ! 

HAST.  He !  he  !  he !     They  are  safe,  however. 

MARL.  As  a  guinea  in  a  miser's  purse. 

HAST.  {.Aside.}  So  now  all  hopes  of  fortune  are  at  an 
end,  and  we  must  set  off  without  it.  [  To  him.'] — Well, 
Charles,  I  '11  leave  you  to  your  meditations  on  the 
pretty  barmaid  ;  and,  he !  he !  he !  may  you  be  as 
successful  for  yourself  as  you  have  been  for  me ! 

\Exit. 

MARL.  Thank  ye,  George ! 

Enter  HARDCASTLE. 

HARD.  I  no  longer  know  my  own  house.  It 's  turned 
all  topsy-turvy.  His  servants  have  got  drunk 
already.  I  '11  bear  it  no  longer ;  and  yet,  for  my 
respect  for  his  father,  I  '11  be  calm.  [To  him.} — Mr. 
Marlow,  your  servant.  I  'm  your  very  humble 
servant.  [Bowing  low. 

MARL.  Sir,  your  humble  servant.  [Aside.]  What's 
to  be  the  wonder  now  ? 

HARD.  I  believe,  sir,  you  must  be  sensible,  sir,  that  no 
man   alive   ought   to   be  more  welcome  than   your 
father's  son,  sir.     I  hope  you  think  so. 
144 


sc.  i.]          She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

MARL.  I  do,  from  my  soul,  sir.  I  don't  want  much 
entreaty.  I  generally  make  my  father's  son  welcome 
wherever  he  goes. 

HARD.  I  believe  you  do,  from  my  soul,  sir.  But 
though  I  say  nothing  to  your  own  conduct,  that  of 
your  servants  is  insufferable.  Their  manner  of 
drinking  is  setting  a  very  bad  example  in  this  house, 
I  assure  you. 

MARL.  I  protest,  my  very  good  sir,  that 's  no  fault  of 
mine.  If  they  don't  drink  as  they  ought,  they  are  to 
blame.  I  ordered  them  not  to  spare  the  cellar:  I 
did,  I  assure  you.  [To  the  side  scene I\ — Here,  let 
one  of  my  servants  come  up.  [To  him.] — My 
positive  directions  were,  that  as  I  did  not  drink 
myself,  they  should  make  up  for  my  deficiencies 
below. 

HARD.  Then,  they  had  your  orders  for  what  they  do ! 
I  'm  satisfied. 

MARL.  They  had,  I  assure  you.  You  shall  hear  from 
one  of  themselves. 


Enter  Servant,  drunk. 

MARL.  You,  Jeremy!  Come  forward,  sirrah.  What 
were  my  orders  ?  Were  you  not  told  to  drink  freely, 
and  call  for  what  you  thought  fit,  for  the  good  of  the 
house  ? 

HARD.  \Aside^\  I  begin  to  lose  my  patience. 

JEREMY.  Please  your  honour,  liberty  and  Fleet  Street 
for  ever !  Though  I  'm  but  a  servant,  I  'm  as  good 

T  145 


your, 


/or 


,   /i6ejrfu   a/nc) 


as   another   man.      I  '11   drink    for   no   man   before 
supper,    sir!      Good   liquor  will   sit   upon   a  good 
supper;    but   a  good    supper  will   not   sit   upon — 
\hiccMp\ — upon  my  conscience,  sir. 
MARL.  You  see,  my  old  friend,  the  fellow  is  as  drunk 
as  he  can  possibly  be.     I  don't  know  what  you'd 
have  more,  unless  you  'd  have  the  poor  fellow  soused 
in  a  beer-barrel. 
146 


sc.  i.]          She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

HARD.  Zounds!  He'll  drive  me  distracted  if  I 
contain  myself  any  longer.  [Aside.}  Mr.  Marlow, 
sir ;  I  have  submitted  to  your  insolence  for  more  than 
four  hours,  and  I  see  no  likelihood  of  its  coming  to 
an  end.  I  'm  now  resolved  to  be  master  here,  sir ; 
and  I  desire  that  you  and  your  drunken  pack  may 
leave  my  house  directly. 

MARL.  Leave  your  house  ?  Sure  you  jest,  my  good 
friend !  What !  when  I  'm  doing  what  I  can  to 
please  you  ? 

HARD.  I  tell  you,  sir,  you  don't  please  me ;  so  I  desire 
you  '11  leave  my  house. 

MARL.  Sure  you  cannot  be  serious !  At  this  time 
o'  night,  and  such  a  night!  You  only  mean  to 
banter  me. 

HARD.  I  tell  you,  sir,  I  'm  serious ;  and,  now  that  my 
passions  are  roused,  I  say  this  house  is  mine,  sir  ; 
this  house  is  mine,  and  I  command  you  to  leave  it 
directly ! 

MARL.  Ha !  ha !  ha !  A  puddle  in  a  storm.  I  shan't 
stir  a  step,  I  assure  you.  [In  a  serious  tone^\  This 
your  house,  fellow!  It's  my  house.  This  is  my 
house.  Mine,  while  I  choose  to  stay.  What  right 
have  you  to  bid  me  leave  this  house,  sir?  I  never 
met  with  such  impudence,  never  in  my  whole  life 
before. 

HARD.  Nor  I,  confound  me  if  ever  I  did.  To  come 
to  my  house,  to  call  for  what  he  likes,  to  turn  me  out 
of  my  own  chair,  to  insult  the  family,  to  order  his 
servants  to  get  drunk,  and  then  to  tell  me,  This 

H7 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer     [ACT  iv. 

house  is  mine,  sir.  By  all  that 's  impudent,  it  makes 
me  laugh.  Ha !  ha !  Pray,  sir  \bantering\  as  you 
take  the  house,  what  think  you  of  taking  the  rest 
of  the  furniture?  There's  a  pair  of  silver  candle- 
sticks, and  there 's  a  fire-screen,  and  here 's  a  pair  of 
brazen-nosed  bellows — perhaps  you  may  take  a  fancy 
to  them. 

MARL.  Bring  me  your  bill,  sir ;  bring  me  your  bill,  and 
let 's  make  no  more  words  about  it. 

HARD.  There  are  a  set  of  prints,  too.  What  think 
you  of  the  '  Rake's  Progress '  for  your  own  apart- 
ment? 

MARL.  Bring  me  your  bill,  I  say ;  and  I  '11  leave  you 
and  your  house  directly. 

HARD.  Then  there's  a  mahogany  table,  that  you  may 
see  your  own  face  in. 

MARL.  My  bill,  I  say. 

HARD.  I  had  forgot  the  great  chair,  for  your  own 
particular  slumbers,  after  a  hearty  meal. 

MARL.  Zounds!  bring  me  my  bill,  I  say;  and  let's 
hear  no  more  on 't. 

HARD.  Young  man,  young  man,  from  your  father's 
letter  to  me,  I  was  taught  to  expect  a  well-bred, 
modest  man  as  a  visitor  here ;  but  now  I  find  him 
no  better  than  a  coxcomb,  and  a  bully.  But  he 
will  be  down  here  presently,  and  shall  hear  more 
of  it.  {Exit. 

MARL.  How's  this?  Sure  I  have  not  mistaken  the 
house  !  Everything  looks  like  an  inn.  The  servants 
cry,  Coming.  The  attendance  is  awkward  ;  the  bar- 
148 


sc.  i  ]          She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

maid,  too,  to  attend  us.  But  she's  here,  and  will 
further  inform  me.  Whither  so  fast,  child?  A 
word  with  you. 

Enter  Miss  HARDCASTLE. 

Miss  HARD.  Let  it  be  short,  then.  I  'm  in  a  hurry. 
[^4 side.]  I  believe  he  begins  to  find  out  his  mistake  ; 
but  it 's  too  soon  quite  to  undeceive  him. 

MARL.  Pray,  child,  answer  me  one  question.  What 
are  you,  and  what  may  your  business  in  this 
house  be? 

Miss  HARD.  A  relation  £>f  the  family,  sir. 

MARL.  What !  a  poor  relation  ? 

Miss  HARD.  Yes,  sir;  a  poor  relation,  appointed  to 
keep  the  keys,  and  to  see  that  the  guests  want 
nothing  in  my  power  to  give  them. 

MARL.  That  is,  you  act  as  the  barmaid  of  this  inn. 

Miss  HARD.  Inn!  Oh,  la!  What  brought  that  in 
your  head  ?  One  of  the  best  families  in  the  county 
keep  an  inn !  Ha !  ha !  ha !  old  Mr.  Hardcastle's 
house  an  inn  ! 

MARL.  Mr.  Hardcastle's  house !  Is  this  house  Mr. 
Hardcastle's  house,  child? 

Miss  HARD.  Ay,  sure.     Whose  else  should  it  be? 

MARL.  So  then  all 's  out,  and  I  have  been  imposed  on. 
Oh,  confound  my  stupid  head !  I  shall  be  laughed 
at  over  the  whole  town.  I  shall  be  stuck  up  in 
caricatura  in  all  the  print  shops ;  the  Dullissimo 
Maccaroni.  To  mistake  this  house,  of  all  others,  for 
an  inn  ;  and  my  father's  old  friend  for  an  innkeeper ! 

149 


c 


8 


•       : 


JfCeaoen,  sAe  weeps. 


ACT  4.    SCENE  1. 


sc.  i.]          She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

What  a  swaggering  puppy  must  he  take  me  for! 
What  a  silly  puppy  do  I  find  myself!  There  again, 
may  I  be  hanged,  my  dear,  but  I  mistook  you  for  the 
barmaid. 

Miss  HARD.  Dear  me  !  dear  me !  I  'm  sure  there 's 
nothing  in  my  behaviour  to  put  me  upon  a  level  with 
one  of  that  stamp. 

MARL.  Nothing,  my  dear,  nothing.  But  I  was  in  for 
a  list  of  blunders,  and  could  not  help  making  you  a 
subscriber.  My  stupidity  saw  everything  the  wrong 
way.  I  mistook  your  assiduity  for  assurance,  and 
your  simplicity  for  allurement.  But  it 's  over.  This 
house  I  no  more  show  my  face  in. 

Miss  HARD.  I  hope,  sir,  I  have  done  nothing  to 
disoblige  you.  I  'm  sure  I  should  be  sorry  to  affront 
any  gentleman  who  has  been  so  polite,  and  said  so 
many  civil  things  to  me.  I  'm  sure  I  should  be  sorry 
[pretending  to  cry]  if  he  left  the  family  upon  my 
account.  I  'm  sure  I  should  be  sorry,  people  said 
anything  amiss,  since  I  have  no  fortune  but  my 
character. 

MARL.  [Aside.}  By  Heaven,  she  weeps.  This  is  the 
first  mark  of  tenderness  I  ever  had  from  a  modest 
woman,  and  it  touches  me.  [To  her.~\  Excuse  me, 
my  lovely  girl,  you  are  the  only  part  of  the  family  I 
leave  with  reluctance.  But  to  be  plain  with  you^  the 
difference  of  our  birth,  fortune,  and  education,  make 
an  honourable  connection  impossible;  and  I  can 
never  harbour  a  thought  of  bringing  ruin  upon  one 
whose  only  fault  was  being  too  lovely. 

u  153 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer      [ACT  iv. 

Miss  HARD.  \_AsideI\  Generous  man  !  I  now  begin  to 
admire  him.  \To  him\ — But  I  'm  sure  my  family  is 
as  good  as  Mr.  Hardcastle  's ;  and  though  I  'm  poor, 
that's  no  great  misfortune  to  a  contented  mind  ;  and 
until  this  moment,  I  never  thought  that  it  was  bad 
to  want  fortune. 

MARL.  And  why  now,  my  pretty  simplicity  ? 

Miss  HARD.  Because  it  puts  me  at  a  distance  from 
one,  that  if  I  had  a  thousand  pound,  I  would  give  it 
all  to. 

MARL.  \Aside.~\  This  simplicity  bewitches  me  so,  that 
if  I  stay  I  'm  undone.  I  must  make  one  bold  effort, 
and  leave  her.  \To  her.} — Your  partiality  in  my 
favour,  my  dear,  touches  me  most  sensibly ;  and 
were  I  to  live  for  myself  alone,  I  could  easily  fix  my 
choice.  But  I  owe  too  much  to  the  opinion  of  the 
world,  too  much  to  the  authority  of  a  father,  so  that 
— I  can  scarcely  speak  it — it  affects  me.  Farewell. 

[Exit. 

Miss   HARD.  I   never  knew  half  his   merit  till  now. 
He  shall  not  go,  if  I  have  power  or  art  to  detain  him. 
I  'Instill  preserve  the  character  jqjwhich  J_  stoopecU-tQ^ 
conquer ;  but  will  unde~ceive  my  papa,  who,  perhaps, 
may  laugh  him  out  of  his  resolution.  \Exit. 

Enter  TONY,  Miss  NEVILLE. 

TONY.  Ay,  you  may  steal  for  yourselves  the  next  time. 
I  have  done  my  duty.  She  has  got  the  jewels  again, 
that 's  a  sure  thing ;  but  she  believes  it  was  all  -  a 
mistake  of  the  servants. 

154 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

Miss  NEV.  But,  my  dear  cousin,  sure  you  won't  for- 
sake us  in  this  distress.  If  she  in  the  least  suspects 
that  I  'm  going  off,  I  shall  certainly  be  locked  up,  or 
sent  to  my  Aunt  Pedigree's,  which  is  ten  times 
worse. 

TONY.  To  be  sure,  aunts  of  all  kinds  are  bad  things ; 
but  what  can  I  do  ?  I  have  got  you  a  pair  of  horses 
that  will  fly  like  Whistle-jacket,  and  I  'm  sure  you 
can't  say  but  I  have  courted  you  nicely  before  her 
face.  Here  she  comes ;  we  must  court  a  bit  or  two 
more,  for  fear  she  should  suspect  us. 

[They  retire  and  seem  to  fondle. 


Enter  MRS.  HARDCASTLE. 

MRS.  HARD.  Well,  I  was  greatly  fluttered,  to  be  sure. 
But  my  son  tells  me  it  was  all  a  mistake  of  the 
servants.  I  shan't  be  easy,  however,  till  they  are 
fairly  married,  and  then  let  her  keep  her  own  fortune. 
But  what  do  I  see  ?  Fondling  together,  as  I  'm  alive. 
I  never  saw  Tony  so  sprightly  before.  Ah !  have 
I  caught  you,  my  pretty  doves  ?  What !  billing, 
exchanging  stolen  glances,  and  broken  murmurs? 
Ah! 

TONY.  As  for  murmurs,  mother,  we  grumble  a  little, 
now  and  then,  to  be  sure.  But  there's  no  love  lost 
between  us. 

MRS.  HARD.  A  mere  sprinkling,  Tony,  upon  the  flame, 
only  to  make  it  burn  brighter. 

Miss  NEV.  Cousin  Tony  promises  to  give  us  more  of 

155 


admiring  that  pleasant,  broad,  red, 
thoughtless ah!  it  s  a  bold  face. 


sc.  i.]          She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

his  company  at  home.  Indeed,  he  shan't  leave  us 
any  more.  It  won't  leave  us,  Cousin  Tony,  will  it  ? 

TONY.  Oh !  it 's  a  pretty  creature.  No,  I  'd  sooner 
leave  my  horse  in  a  pound,  than  leave  you,  when 
you  smile  upon  one  so.  Your  laugh  makes  you  so 
becoming. 

Miss  NEV.  Agreeable  cousin !  Who  can  help  admir- 
ing that  natural  humour,  that  pleasant,  broad,  red, 
thoughtless  [patting  his  cheek\,  ah  !  it 's  a  bold  face. 

MRS.  HARD.  Pretty  innocence  ! 

TONY.  I  'm  sure  I  always  loved  Cousin  Con's  hazel 
eyes,  and  her  pretty  long  fingers,  that  she  twists  this 
way  and  that,  over  the  haspicholls,  like  a  parcel  of 
bobbins. 

MRS.  HARD.  Ah  1  he  would  charm  the  bird  from  the 
tree.  I  was  never  so  happy  before.  My  boy  takes 
after  his  father,  poor  Mr.  Lumpkin,  exactly.  The 
jewels,  my  dear  Con,  shall  be  yours  incontinently. 
You  shall  have  them.  Isn't  he  a  sweet  boy,  my 
dear?  You  shall  be  married  to-morrow,  and  we'll 
put  off  the  rest  of  his  education,  like  Mr.  Drowsy's 
sermons,  to  a  fitter  opportunity. 

Enter  DIGGORY. 

DIGG.  Where's  the  'squire?     I  have  got  a  letter  for 

your  worship. 
TONY.  Give   it   to   my   mamma.     She    reads    all    my 

letters  first. 
DIGG.  I  had  orders  to  deliver  it  into  your  own  hands. 

159 


\ 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer     [ACT  iv. 

TONY.  Who  does  it  come  from  ? 

DIGG.  Your  worship  mun  ask  that  o'  the  letter  itself. 

TONY.  I  could  wish  to  know  though.  [Turning  the 
letter  and  gazing  on  it.} 

Miss  NEV.  \Aside^\  Undone,  undone!  A  letter  to 
him  from  Hastings.  I  know  the  hand.  If  my  aunt 
sees  it,  we  are  ruined  for  ever.  I  '11  keep  her 
employed  a  little,  if  I  can.  [To  MRS.  HARDCASTLE.] 
But  I  have  not  told  you,  madam,  of  my  cousin's 
smart  answer  just  now  to  Mr.  Marlow.  We  so 
laughed.  You  must  know,  madam — this  way  a  little  ; 
for  he  must  not  hear  us.  [They  confer.} 

TONY.  [Still  gazing.}  A cramp  piece  of  penman- 
ship, as  ever  I  saw  in  my  life.  I  can  read  your 
print  hand  very  well.  But  here  there  are  such 
handles,  and  shanks,  and  dashes,  that  one  can 
scarce  tell  the  head  from  the  tail.  '  To  Anthony 
Lumpkin,  Esq.'  It's  very  odd,  I  can  read  the 
outside  of  my  letters,  where  my  own  name  is, 
well  enough.  But  when  I  come  to  open  it,  it  is 
all — buzz.  That 's  hard,  very  hard ;  for  the  inside 
of  the  letter  is  always  the  cream  of  the  corre- 
spondence. 

MRS.  HARD.  Ha !  ha !  ha !  Very  well,  very  well. 
And  so  my  son  was  too  hard  for  the  philosopher. 

Miss  NEV.  Yes,  madam ;  but  you  must  hear  the  rest, 
madam.  A  little  more  this  way,  or  he  may  hear  us. 
You'll  hear  how  he  puzzled  him  again. 

MRS.  HARD.  He  seems  strangely  puzzled  now  himself, 
methinks. 
1 60 


TONY.  [5/z7/  gazing.]  An  up  and  down  hand,  as  if  it 
was  disguised  in  liquor.  [Reading]  '  Dear  Sir.' 
Ay,  that 's  that.  Then  there 's  an  M,  and  a  7",  and 
a  5;  but  whether  the  next  be  izzard  or  an  R, 
confound  me,  I  cannot  tell. 

MRS.  HARD.  What 's  that,  my  dear  ?  Can  I  give  you 
any  assistance  ? 

Miss  NEV.  Pray,  aunt,  let  me  read  it.  Nobody  reads 
x  161 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer      [ACT  iv. 

a  cramp  hand  better  than  I.  [Twitching  the  letter 
from  him.}  Do  you  know  who  it  is  from  ? 

TONY.  Can't  tell,  except  from  Dick  Ginger,  the  feeder. 

Miss  NEV.  Ay,  so  it  is.  [Pretending  to  read.}  '  Dear 
'Squire, — Hoping  that  you  're  in  health,  as  I  am  at 
this  present.  The  gentlemen  of  the  Shake-bag  club 
has  cut  the  gentleman  of  the  Goose-green  quite  out 
of  feather.  The  odds — um — odd  battle — um — long 
fighting — um — '  Here,  here  ;  it 's  all  about  cocks 
and  fighting;  it's  of  no  consequence;  here,  put  it 
up,  put  it  up.  [  Thrusting  the  crumpled  letter  upon 
him.} 

TONY.  But  I  tell  you,  miss,  it 's  of  all  the  consequence 
in  the  world.  I  would  not  lose  the  rest  of  it  for 
a  guinea.  Here,  mother,  do  you  make  it  out.  Of 
no  consequence!  [Giving  MRS.  HARDCASTLE  the 
letter} 

MRS.  HARD.  How's  this?    [Reads.} — 

Dear  'Squire, — I  'm  now  waiting  for  Miss  Neville,  with  a 
post-chaise  and  pair,  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden,  but  I  find 
my  horses  yet  unable  to  perform  the  journey.  I  expect 
you  '11  assist  us  with  a  pair  of  fresh  horses,  as  you  promised. 
Dispatch  is  necessary,  as  the  hag  [ay,  the  hag],  your  mother, 
will  otherwise  suspect  us.  Yours,  HASTINGS. 

Grant  me  patience!     I    shall   run  distracted.     My 
rage  chokes  me ! 

Miss  NEV.  I    hope,    madam,    you'll    suspend    your 
resentment  for  a  few  moments,  and  not  impute  to 
me  any  impertinence,  or  sinister  design  that  belongs 
to  another. 
162 


sc.  I  ]          She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

MRS.  HARD.  \Curtseying  very  low.}  Fine  spoken 
madam,  you  are  most  miraculously  polite  and 
engaging,  and  quite  the  very  pink  of  courtesy  and 
circumspection,  madam.  [Changing  her  tone?\  And 
you,  you  great  ill-fashioned  oaf,  with  scarce  sense 
enough  to  keep  your  mouth  shut!  were  you,  too, 
joined  against  me?  But  I  '11  defeat  all  your  plots  in 
a  moment.  As  for  you,  madam,  since  you  have  got 
a  pair  of  fresh  horses  ready,  it  would  be  cruel  to 
disappoint  them.  So,  if  you  please,  instead  of 
running  away  with  your  spark,  prepare,  this  very 
moment,  to  run  off  with  me.  Your  old  Aunt 
Pedigree  will  keep  you  secure,  I  '11  warrant  me. 
You  too,  sir,  may  mount  your  horse,  and  guard 
us  upon  the  way.  Here,  Thomas,  Roger,  Diggory, 
I  '11  show  you  that  I  wish  you  better  than  you  do 
yourselves.  \Rxit. 

Miss  NEV.  So  now  I  'm  completely  ruined. 

TONY.  Ay,  that 's  a  sure  thing. 

Miss  NEV.  What  better  could  be  expected,  from  being 
connected  with  such  a  stupid  fool,  and  after  all  the 
nods  and  signs  I  made  him  ? 

TONY.  By  the  laws,  miss,  it  was  your  own  cleverness, 
and  not  my  stupidity,  that  did  your  business.  You 
were  so  nice,  and  so  busy,  with  your  Shake-bags 
and  Goose-greens,  that  I  thought  you  could  never  be 
making  believe. 

Enter  HASTINGS. 

HAST.  So,  sir,  I  find   by  my  servant  that  you  have 

163 


W 


'net  you,  you  great  ill-fashioned  oaf 

ACT  4.    SCENE  1. 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

shown  my  letter  and  betrayed  us.     Was  this  well 
done,  young  gentleman  ? 

TONY.  Here 's  another.     Ask  miss,  there,  who  betrayed 
you.     Ecod,  it  was  her  doing,  not  mine. 

Enter  MARLOW. 

MARL.  So,  I  have  been  finely  used  here  among  you. 

Rendered    contemptible,    driven    into    ill    manners, 

despised,  insulted,  laughed  at. 
TONY.  Here's  another.     We  shall  have  old  Bedlam 

broke  loose  presently. 
Miss  NEV.  And  there,  sir,  is  the  gentleman  to  whom 

we  all  owe  every  obligation. 
MARL.  What  can  I  say  to  him,  a  mere  boy,  an  idiot, 

whose  ignorance  and  age  are  a  protection  ? 
HAST.  A  poor  contemptible  booby,   that  would   but 

disgrace  correction. 
Miss  NEV.  Yet  with  cunning  and  malice  enough  to 

make  himself  merry  with  all  our  embarrassments. 
HAST.  An  insensible  cub ! 
MARL.  Replete  with  tricks  and  mischief. 
TONY.  Baw !    but   I  '11   fight  you  both,  one  after  the 

other — with  baskets. 
MARL.  As  for  him,  he 's  below  resentment.     But  your 

conduct,    Mr.    Hastings,    requires    an    explanation. 

You  knew  of  my  mistakes,  yet  would  not  undeceive 

me. 

HAST.  Tortured   as    I   am  with   my  own   disappoint- 
ments, is  this  a  time  for  explanations?     It  is  not 

friendly,  Mr.  Marlow. 

167 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer      [ACT  iv. 

MARL.  But,  sir 

Miss  NEV.  Mr.    Marlow,    we    never    kept    on    your 

mistake,  till  it  was  too  late  to  undeceive  you.     Be 

pacified. 

Enter  Servant. 

SERV.  My  mistress  desires  you'll  get  ready  imme- 
diately, madam.  The  horses  are  putting  to.  Your 
hat  and  things  are  in  the  next  room.  We  are  to  go 
thirty  miles  before  morning.  [Exit  Servant. 

Miss  NEV.  Well,  well ;  I  '11  come  presently. 

MARL.  [To  HASTINGS.]  Was  it  well  done,  sir,  to 
assist  in  rendering  me  ridiculous  ?  To  hang  me  out 
for  the  scorn  of  all  my  acquaintance  ?  Depend  upon 
it,  sir,  I  shall  expect  an  explanation. 

HAST.  Was  it  well  done,  sir,  if  you  're  upon  that 
subject,  to  deliver  what  I  entrusted  to  yourself  to 
the  care  of  another,  sir  ? 

Miss  NEV.  Mr.  Hastings,  Mr.  Marlow,  why  will  you 
increase  my  distress  by  this  groundless  dispute.  I 
implore,  I  entreat  you 

Enter  Servant. 

SERV.  Your  cloak,  madam.     My  mistress  is  impatient. 
Miss  NEV.  I  come.     Pray  be  pacified.     If  I  leave  you 
thus,  I  shall  die  with  apprehension. 

Enter  Servant. 

SERV.  Your    fan,    muff,    and    gloves,    madam.     The 
horses  are  waiting. 
1 68 


sc.  L]          She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

Miss  NEV.  Oh,  Mr.  Marlow!  if  you  knew  what  a 
scene  of  constraint  and  ill-nature  lies  before  me,  I  'm 
sure  it  would  convert  your  resentment  into  pity. 

MARL.  I  'm  so  distracted  with  a  variety  of  passions, 
that  I  don't  know  what  I  do.  Forgive  me,  madam. 
George,  forgive  me.  You  know  my  hasty  temper, 
and  should  not  exasperate  it. 

HAST.  The  torture  of  my  situation  is  my  only  excuse. 

Miss  NEV.  Well,  my  dear  Hastings,  if  you  have  that 
esteem  for  me  that  I  think,  that  I  am  sure  you  have, 
your  constancy  for  three  years  will  but  increase  the 
happiness  of  our  future  connection.  If 

MRS.  HARD.  \Within^  Miss  Neville.  Constance, 
why  Constance,  I  say. 

Miss  NEV.  I  'm  coming.  Well,  constancy.  Re- 
member, constancy  is  the  word.  [Exit. 

HAST.  My  heart,  how  can  I  support  this !  To  be  so 
near  happiness,  and  such  happiness  ! 

MARL.  [To  TONY.]  You  see  now,  young  gentleman,  the 
effects  of  your  folly.  What  might  be  amusement  to 
you,  is  here  disappointment,  and  even  distress. 

TONY.  [From  a  reverie.']  Ecod,  I  have  hit  it.  It 's  here. 
Your  hands.  Yours  and  yours,  my  poor  sulky. 
My  boots  there,  ho !  Meet  me  two  hours  hence  at 
the  bottom  of  the  garden;  and  if  you  don't  find  Tony 
Lumpkin  a  more  good-natured  fellow  than  you 
thought  for,  I  '11  give  you  leave  to  take  my  best  horse, 
and  Bet  Bouncer  into  the  bargain.  Come  along. 
My  boots,  ho !  [Exeunt. 

Y  169 


SCENE  I 

Scene  continues. 

Enter  HASTINGS  and  Servant. 

HAST.  You  saw  the  old  lady  and  Miss  Neville  drive 
off,  you  say? 

SERV.  Yes,  your  honour ;  they  went  off  in  a  post-coach, 
and  the  young  'squire  went  on  horseback.  They  're 
thirty  miles  off  by  this  time. 

HAST.  Then  all  my  hopes  are  over. 

SERV.  Yes,  sir.  Old  Sir  Charles  is  arrived.  He  and 
the  old  gentleman  of  the  house  have  been  laughing 
at  Mr.  Marlow's  mistake  this  half-hour.  They  are 
coming  this  way. 

HAST.  Then  I  must  not  be  seen.  So  now  to  my  fruit- 
less appointment  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden.  This 
is  about  the  time.  \Exit. 

Enter  SIR  CHARLES  and  HARDCASTLE. 

HARD.  Ha !  ha !  ha !     The  peremptory  tone  in  which 

he  sent  forth  his  sublime  commands  ! 
SIR  CHARLES.  And  the  reserve  with  which  I  suppose 

he  treated  all  your  advances  ! 

173 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer       [ACT  v. 

HARD.  And  yet  he  might  have  seen  something  in  me 
above  a  common  innkeeper,  too. 

SIR  CHARLES.  Yes,  Dick,  but  he  mistook  you  for  an 
uncommon  innkeeper,  ha !  ha !  ha ! 

HARD.  Well,  I  'm  in  too  good  spirits  to  think  of  any- 
thing but  joy.  Yes,  my  dear  friend,  this  union  of  our 
families  will  make  our  personal  friendships  heredi- 
tary; and  though  my  daughter's  fortune  is  but 
small 

SIR  CHARLES.  Why,  Dick,  will  you  talk  of  fortune 
to  me!  My  son  is  possessed  of  more  than  a 
competence  already,  and  can  want  nothing  but  a 
good  and  virtuous  girl  to  share  his  happiness  and 
increase  it.  If  they  like  each  other,  as  you  say 
they  do 

HARD.  If,  man  !  I  tell  you  they  do  like  each  other. 
My  daughter  as  good  as  told  me  so. 

SIR  CHARLES.  But  girls  are  apt  to  flatter  themselves, 
you  know. 

HARD.  I  saw  him  grasp  her  hand  in  the  warmest 
manner  myself ;  and  here  he  comes,  to  put  you  out 
of  your  ifs,  I  warrant  him. 

Enter  MARLOW. 

MARL.  I  come,  sir,  once  more,  to  ask  pardon  for  my 
strange  conduct.  I  can  scarce  reflect  on  my  insolence 
without  confusion. 

HARD.  Tut,  boy,  a  trifle.  You  take  it  too  gravely. 
An  hour  or  two's  laughing  with  my  daughter  will 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

set  all  to  rights  again.     She'll  never  like  you  the 

worse  for  it. 

MARL.  Sir,  I  shall  be  always  proud  of  her  approbation. 
HARD.  Approbation  is  but  a  cold  word,  Mr.  Marlow: 

if  I  am  not  deceived,  you  have  something  more  than 

approbation  thereabouts.     You  take  me  ? 
MARL.  Really,  sir,  I  have  not  that  happiness. 
HARD.  Come,  boy,  I  'm  an  old  fellow,  and  know  what 's 

what,  as  well  as  you  that  are  younger.     I  know  what 

has  passed  between  you  ;  but  mum. 
MARL.  Sure,  sir,  nothing  has  passed  between  us,  but 

the  most  profound  respect  on  my  side,  and  the  most 

distant  reserve  on  hers.     You  don't  think,  sir,  that 

my  impudence  has  been  passed  upon  all  the  rest 

of  the  family  ? 
HARD.  Impudence !     No,  I  don't  say  that.     Not  quite 

impudence.     Though  girls  like  to  be  played  with, 

and  rumpled  a  little  too,  sometimes.     But  she  has 

told  no  tales,  I  assure  you. 
MARL.  I  never  gave  her  the  slightest  cause. 
HARD.  Well,  well,   I  like  modesty  in   its  place  well 

enough.     But  this  is  over-acting,  young  gentleman. 

You  may  be  open.     Your  father  and  I  will  like  you 

the  better  for  it. 

MARL.  May  I  die,  sir,  if  I  ever 

HARD.  I  tell  you,  she  don't  dislike  you ;   and  as  I  'm 

sure  you  like  her 

MARL.  Dear  sir — I  protest,  sir 

HARD.  I  see  no  reason  why  you  should  not  be  joined 

as  fast  as  the  parson  can  tie  you. 

175 


She  Stoops   to   Conquer      [ACT  v. 


MARL.   But  hear  me,  sir- 


HARD.  Your  father  approves  the  match,  I  admire  it, 
every  moment's  delay  will  be  doing  mischief,  so 

MARL.  But  why  won't  you  hear  me?  By  all  that's 
just  and  true,  I  never  gave  Miss  Hardcastle  the 
slightest  mark  of  my  attachment,  or  even  the  most 
distant  hint  to  suspect  me  of  affection.  We  had  but 
one  interview,  and  that  was  formal,  modest,  and 
uninteresting. 

HARD.  \Aside^\  This  fellow's  formal,  modest  impu- 
dence is  beyond  bearing. 

SIR  CHARLES.  And  you  never  grasped  her  hand,  or 
made  any  protestations  ? 

MARL.  As  Heaven  is  my  witness,  I  came  down  in 
obedience  to  your  commands.  I  saw  the  lady 
without  emotion,  and  parted  without  reluctance.  I 
hope  you  '11  exact  no  further  proofs  of  my  duty,  nor 
prevent  me  from  leaving  a  house  in  which  I  suffer  so 
many  mortifications.  \_Rxit. 

SIR  CHARLES.  I  'm  astonished  at  the  air  of  sincerity 
with  which  he  parted. 

HARD.  And  I  'm  astonished  at  the  deliberate  intre- 
pidity of  his  assurance. 

SIR  CHARLES.  I  dare  pledge  my  life  and  honour  upon 
his  truth. 

HARD.  Here  comes  my  daughter,  and  I  would  stake 
my  happiness  upon  her  veracity. 

Enter  Miss  HARDCASTLE. 

HARD.  Kate,  come  hither,  child.     Answer  us  sincerely, 
176 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

and  without  reserve  :  has  Mr.  Marlow  made  you  any 
professions  of  love  and  affection  ? 

Miss  HARD.  The  question  is  very  abrupt,  sir.  But 
since  you  require  unreserved  sincerity,  I  think  he  has. 

HARD.  [To  SIR  CHARLES.]  You  see. 

SIR  CHARLES.  And  pray,  madam,  have  you  and  my 
son  had  more  than  one  interview? 

Miss  HARD.  Yes,  sir,  several. 

HARD.  [To  SIR  CHARLES.]  You  see. 

SIR  CHARLES.  But  did  he  profess  any  attachment  ? 

Miss  HARD.  A  lasting  one. 

SIR  CHARLES.  Did  he  talk  of  love  ? 

Miss  HARD.  Much,  sir. 

SIR  CHARLES.  Amazing !  and  all  this  formally  ? 

Miss  HARD.  Formally. 

HARD.  Now,  my  friend,  I  hope  you  are  satisfied  ? 

SIR  CHARLES.  And  how  did  he  behave,  madam  ? 

Miss  HARD.  As  most  professed  admirers  do.      Said 

some  civil  things  of  my  face ;   talked  much  of  his 

want  of  merit,  and  the  greatness  of  mine ;  mentioned 

his  heart;  gave  a  short  tragedy  speech,  and  ended 

\     with  pretended  rapture. 

SIR  CHARLES.  Now  I  'm  perfectly  convinced,  indeed. 
I  know  his  conversation  among  women  to  be  modest 
and  submissive.  This  forward,  canting,  ranting 
manner  by  no  means  describes  him,  and  I  am 
confident  he  never  sat  for  the  picture. 

Miss  HARD.  Then  what,  sir,  if  I  should  convince  you 
to  your  face  of  my  sincerity  ?  If  you  and  my  papa, 
in  about  half  an  hour,  will  place  yourselves  behind 
z  177 


& 

&fo 


hoio  did  fie  6e/iaoe,  madam  ? 


ACT  5.      SCENE  1 


sc.  i.]          She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

that  screen,  you  shall  hear  him  declare  his  passion  to 

me  in  person. 
SIR  CHARLES.  Agreed.     And  if  I  find  him  what  you 

describe,  all  my  happiness  in  him  must  have  an  end. 

[Exit. 
Miss  HARD.  And    if    you    don't    find    him    what    I 

describe — I   fear  my  happiness  must  never  have  a 

beginning.  [Exeunt. 


Scene  changes  to  the  back  of  the  garden. 

Enter  HASTINGS. 

HAST.  What  an  idiot  am  I,  to  wait  here  for  a  fellow 
who  probably  takes  a  delight  in  mortifying  me! 
He  never  intended  to  be  punctual,  and  I  '11  wait  no 
longer.  What  do  I  see  ?  It  is  he,  and  perhaps  with 
news  of  my  Constance. 

Enter  TONY,  booted  and  spattered. 

HAST.  My  honest  'squire!  I  now  find  you  a  man  of 
your  word.  This  looks  like  friendship. 

TONY.  Ay,  I  'm  your  friend,  and  the  best  friend  you 
have  in  the  world,  if  you  knew  but  all.  This  riding 
by  night,  by  the  bye,  is  cursedly  tiresome.  It  has 
shook  me  worse  than  the  basket  of  a  stage-coach. 

HAST.  But  how?  Where  did  you  leave  your  fellow- 
travellers  ?  Are  they  in  safety  ?  Are  they  housed  ? 

TONY.  Five-and-twenty  miles  in  two  hours  and  a 
half  is  no  such  bad  driving.  The  poor  beasts 

181 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer      [ACT  v. 

have  smoked  for  it.  Rabbit  me,  but  I  'd  rather  ride 
forty  miles  after  a  fox,  than  ten  with  such  varment. 

HAST.  Well,  but  where  have  you  left  the  ladies?  I 
die  with  impatience. 

TONY.  Left  them?  Why,  where  should  I  leave  them, 
but  where  I  found  them  ? 

HAST.  This  is  a  riddle. 

TONY.  Riddle  me  this,  then.  What 's  that  goes  round 
the  house,  and  round  the  house,  and  never  touches 
the  house  ? 

HAST.  I  'm  still  astray. 

TONY.  Why,  that's  it,  mon.  I  have  led  them  astray. 
By  jingo,  there 's  not  a  pond  or  slough  within  five 
miles  of  the  place,  but  they  can  tell  the  taste  of. 

HAST.  Ha,  ha,  ha !  I  understand :  you  took  them 
in  a  round,  while  they  supposed  themselves  going 
forward.  And  so  you  have  at  last  brought  them 
home  again. 

TONY.  You  shall  hear.  I  first  took  them  down 
Feather-bed  Lane,  where  we  stuck  fast  in  the  mud. 
I  then  rattled  them  crack  over  the  stones  of  Up-and- 
Down  Hill — I  then  introduced  them  to  the  gibbet, 
on  Heavy-tree  Heath  ;  and  from  that  with  a  circum- 
bendibus, I  fairly  lodged  them  in  the  horse-pond  at 
the  bottom  of  the  garden. 

HAST.  But  no  accident,  I  hope. 

TONY.  No,  no.    Only  mother  is  confoundedly  frightened. 

She  thinks  herself  forty  miles  off.     She 's  sick  of  the 

journey,  and  the  cattle  can  scarce  crawl.     So,  if  your 

own  horses  be  ready,  you  may  whip  off  with  cousin, 

182 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

and  I  '11  be  bound  that  no  soul  here  can  budge  a  foot 
to  follow  you. 

HAST.  My  dear  friend,  how  can  I  be  grateful  ? 

TONY.  Ay,  now  it's  dear  friend,  noble  'squire.  Just 
now,  it  was  all  idiot,  cub,  and  run  me  through  the 
guts.  Confound  your  way  of  fighting,  I  say.  After 
we  take  a  knock  in  this  part  of  the  country,  we  kiss 
and  be  friends.  But,  if  you  had  run  me  through  the 
guts,  then  I  should  be  dead,  and  you  might  go  kiss 
the  hangman. 

HAST.  The  rebuke  is  just.  But  I  must  hasten  to 
relieve  Miss  Neville ;  if  you  keep  the  old  lady 
employed,  I  promise  to  take  care  of  the  young  one. 

\Exit  HASTINGS. 

TONY.  Never  fear  me.  Here  she  comes.  Vanish ! 
She's  got  from  the  pond,  and  draggled  up  to  the 
waist  like  a  mermaid. 


Enter  MRS.  HARDCASTLE. 

MRS.  HARD.  Oh,  Tony,   I  'm    killed — shook — battered 

to  death.     I  shall  never  survive  it.     That  last  jolt, 

that  laid  us  against  the  quickset  hedge,  has  done  my 

business. 
TONY.  Alack !  mamma,  it  was  all  your  own  fault.     You 

would    be    for    running    away    by    night,    without 

knowing  one  inch  of  the  way. 
MRS.  HARD.  I  wish  we  were  at  home  again.     I  never 

met   so   many   accidents    in    so    short    a    journey. 

Drenched  in  the  mud,  overturned  in  a  ditch,  stuck 

183 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer       [ACT  v. 

fast  in  a  slough,  jolted  to  a  jelly,  and  at  last  to 

lose  our  way !     Whereabouts  do  you  think  we  are, 

Tony? 
TONY.  By  my  guess  we  should   be   upon   Crackskull 

Common,  about  forty  miles  from  home. 
MRS.  HARD.  Oh,  lud !    oh,  lud !    the   most  notorious 

spot  in  all  the  country.     We  only  want  a  robbery  to 

make  a  complete  night  on 't. 
TONY.  Don't  be  afraid,  mamma  !  don't  be  afraid.     Two 

of  the  five  that  were  kept  here  are  hanged,  and  the 

other  three  may  not  find  us.     Don't  be  afraid.     Is 

that  a  man  that 's  galloping  behind  us  ?     No,  it 's 

only  a  tree.     Don't  be  afraid. 
MRS.  HARD.  The  fright  will  certainly  kill  me. 
TONY.  Do  you  see  anything  like  a  black  hat  moving 

behind  the  thicket  ? 
MRS.  HARD.  Oh,  death  ! 
TONY.  No,  it 's  only  a  cow.     Don't  be  afraid,  mamma  : 

don't  be  afraid. 
MRS.  HARD.  As  I  'm  alive,  Tony,  I  see  a  man  coming 

towards  us.     Ah,  I  'm  sure  on  't.     If  he  perceives  us, 

we  are  undone. 
TONY.  \Aside^\   Father-in-law,  by  all   that's  unlucky, 

come  to  take  one  of  his  night  walks.     [To  her.} — 

Ah !  it 's  a  highwayman,  with  pistols  as  long  as  my 

arm.     An  ill-looking  fellow. 

MRS.    HARD.    Good    Heaven    defend    us !      He    ap- 
proaches. 
TONY.  Do  you  hide  yourself  in  that  thicket,  and  leave 

me  to  manage  him.     If  there  be  any  danger,  I  '11 
184 


sc.  i.]          She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

cough  and  cry — hem !     When  I  cough,  be  sure  to 
keep  close. 

[MRS.  HARDCASTLE  hides  behind  a  tree,  in  the 
back  scene. 


Enter  HARDCASTLE. 

HARD.  I  'm  mistaken,  or  I  heard  voices  of  people  in 
want  of  help.  Oh,  Tony,  is  that  you  ?  I  did  not 
expect  you  so  soon  back.  Are  your  mother  and  her 
charge  in  safety? 

TONY.  Very  safe,  sir,  at  my  Aunt  Pedigree's.     Hem  I 

MRS.  HARD.  [From  behind.]  Ah,  death !  I  find 
there's  danger. 

HARD.  Forty  miles  in  three  hours ;  sure  that 's  too 
much,  my  youngster. 

TONY.  Stout  horses  and  willing  minds  make  short 
journey,  as  they  say.  Hem  ! 

MRS.  HARD.  [From  behind.]  Sure  he'll  do  the  dear 
boy  no  harm ! 

HARD.  But  I  heard  a  voice  here ;  I  shall  be  glad  to 
know  from  whence  it  came. 

TONY.  It  was  I,  sir ;  talking  to  myself,  sir.  I  was 
saying,  that  forty  miles  in  three  hours  was  very 
good  going — hem  !  As,  to  be  sure,  it  was — hem  !  I 
have  got  a  sort  of  cold  by  being  out  in  the  air. 
We  '11  go  in,  if  you  please — hem  ! 

HARD.  But  if  you  talked  to  yourself,  you  did  not 
answer  yourself.  I  am  certain  I  heard  two  voices, 
and  am  resolved  [raising  his  voice]  to  find  the  other 
out. 

2  A  185 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer      [ACT  v. 

MRS.  HARD.  [From  behind.']  Oh !  he 's  coming  to 
find  me  out.  Oh  ! 

TONY.  What  need  you  go,  sir,  if  I  tell  you — hem ! 
I  '11  lay  down  my  life  for  the  truth — hem  !  I  '11  tell 
you  all,  sir.  [Detaining  him. 

HARD.  I  tell  you,  I  will  not  be  detained.  I  insist  on 
seeing.  It 's  in  vain  to  expect  I  '11  believe  you. 

MRS.  HARD.  [Running  forward  from  behind.']  Oh, 
lud,  he  '11  murder  my  poor  boy,  my  darling  1  Here, 
good  gentleman,  whet  your  rage  upon  me.  Take 
my  money,  my  life,  but  spare  that  young  gentleman  ; 
spare  my  child,  if  you  have  any  mercy. 

HARD.  My  wife !  as  I  'm  a  Christian.  From  whence 
can  she  come,  or  what  does  she  mean  ? 

MRS.  HARD.  [Kneeling.]  Take  compassion  on  us, 
good  Mr.  Highwayman.  Take  our  money,  our 
watches,  all  we  have ;  but  spare  our  lives.  We  will 
never  bring  you  to  justice ;  indeed,  we  won't,  good 
Mr.  Highwayman. 

HARD.  I  believe  the  woman's  out  of  her  senses. 
What !  Dorothy,  don't  you  know  me  ? 

MRS.  HARD.  Mr.  Hardcastle,  as  I  'm  alive !  My  fears 
blinded  me.  But  who,  my  dear,  could  have 
expected  to  meet  you  here,  in  this  frightful  place, 
so  far  from  home?  What  has  brought  you  to 
follow  us  ? 

HARD.  Sure,  Dorothy,  you  have  not  lost  your  wits? 

So  far  from  home,  when  you  are  within  forty  yards 

of  your  own  door?    [To  him.] — This  is  one  of  your 

old   tricks,  you   graceless  rogue  you.     [To  her.] — 

1 86 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

Don't    you     know    the    gate,    and     the     mulberry 

tree?  and  don't  you  remember  the  horse-pond,  my 

dear? 
MRS.  HARD.  Yes,   I   shall   remember  the  horse-pond 

as  long  as  I  live :    I  have  caught  my  death  in  it. 

[To  TONY.] — And  is  it  to  you,  you  graceless  varlet,  I 

owe  all  this  ?     I  '11  teach  you  to  abuse  your  mother, 

I  will. 
TONY.  Ecod,    mother,  all    the   parish   says   you   have 

spoiled  me,  and  so  you  may  take  the  fruits  on  't. 
MRS.  HARD.  I  '11  spoil  you,  I  will. 

\Follows  him  off  the  stage.     Exit. 
HARD.  There 's  morality,  however,  in  his  reply.    \_Exit. 

Enter  HASTINGS  and  Miss  NEVILLE. 

HAST.  My  dear  Constance,  why  will  you  deliberate 
thus?  If  we  delay  a  moment,  all  is  lost  for  ever. 
Pluck  up  a  little  resolution,  and  we  shall  soon  be 
out  of  the  reach  of  her  malignity. 

Miss  NEV.  I  find  it  impossible.  My  spirits  are  so 
sunk  with  the  agitations  I  have  suffered,  that  I  am 
unable  to  face  any  new  danger.  Two  or  three  years' 
patience  will  at  last  crown  us  with  happiness. 

HAST.  Such  a  tedious  delay  is  worse  than  inconstancy. 
Let  us  fly,  my  charmer.  Let  us  date  our  happiness 
from  this  very  moment.  Perish  fortune !  Love 
and  content  will  increase  what  we  possess,  beyond 
a  monarch's  revenue.  Let  me  prevail. 

Miss  NEV.  No,    Mr.    Hastings ;  no.     Prudence   once 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer       [ACT  v. 

more  comes  to  my  relief,  and  I  will  obey  its  dictates. 

In  the  moment  of  passion,  fortune  may  be  despised  ; 

but    it   ever   produces   a    lasting   repentance.      I  'm 

resolved  to  apply  to  Mr.   Hardcastle's   compassion 

and  justice  for  redress. 
HAST.  But  though  he  had  the  will,  he  has  not  the 

power  to  relieve  you. 
Miss  NEV.  But  he  has  influence,  and  upon  that  I  am 

resolved  to  rely. 
HAST.  I  have  no  hopes.    But  since  you  persist,  I  must 

reluctantly  obey  you.  {Exeunt. 

Scene  changes. 

Enter  SIR  CHARLES  and  Miss  HARDCASTLE. 

SIR  CHARLES.  What  a  situation  am  I  in !  If  what 
you  say  appears,  I  shall  then  find  a  guilty  son.  If 
what  he  says  be  true,  I  shall  then  lose  one  that,  of 
all  others,  I  most  wished  for  a  daughter. 

Miss  HARD.  I  am  proud  of  your  approbation,  and  to 
show  I  merit  it,  if  you  place  yourselves  as  I  directed, 
you  shall  hear  his  explicit  declaration.  But  he 
comes. 

SIR  CHARLES.  I  '11  to  your  father,  and  keep  him  to  the 
appointment.  \_Exit  SIR  CHARLES. 

Enter  MARLOW. 

MARL.  Though  prepared  for  setting  out,  I  come  once 
more  to  take  leave ;  nor  did   I,  till   this  moment, 
know  the  pain  I  feel  in  this  separation. 
1 88 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

Miss  HARD.  [In  her  own  natural  manner.}  I  believe 
these  sufferings  cannot  be  very  great,  sir,  which  you 
can  so  easily  remove.  A  day  or  two  longer,  perhaps, 
might  lessen  your  uneasiness,  by  showing  the  little 
value  of  what  you  now  think  proper  to  regret. 

MARL.  {.Aside.}  This  girl  every  moment  improves 
upon  me.  [To  her.} — It  must  not  be,  madam.  I 
have  already  trifled  too  long  with  my  heart.  My 
very  pride  begins  to  submit  to  my  passion.  The 
disparity  of  education  and  fortune,  the  anger  of  a 
parent,  and  the  contempt  of  my  equals,  begin  to  lose 
their  weight,  and  nothing  can  restore  me  to  myself 
but  this  painful  effort  of  resolution. 

Miss  HARD.  Then  go,  sir.  I  '11  urge  nothing  more 
to  detain  you.  Though  my  family  be  as  good  as 
hers  you  came  down  to  visit,  and  my  education,  I 
hope,  not  inferior,  what  are  these  advantages,  with- 
out equal  affluence  ?  I  must  remain  contented  with 
the  slight  approbation  of  imputed  merit;  I  must 
have  only  the  mockery  of  your  addresses,  while  all 
your  serious  aims  are  fixed  on  fortune. 

Enter  HARDCASTLE  and  SIR  CHARLES  from  behind. 

SIR  CHARLES.  Here,  behind  this  screen. 

HARD.  Ay,  ay,  make  no  noise.  I  '11  engage  my  Kate 
covers  him  with  confusion  at  last. 

MARL.  By  heavens,  madam,  fortune  was  ever  my 
smallest  consideration.  Your  beauty  at  first  caught 
my  eye ;  for  who  could  see  that  without  emotion  ? 

189 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer       [ACT  v. 

But  every  moment  that  I  converse  with  you,  steals 
in  some  new  grace,  heightens  the  picture,  and  gives 
it  stronger  expression.  What  at  first  seemed  rustic 
plainness  now  appears  refined  simplicity.  What 
seemed  forward  assurance  now  strikes  me  as  the 
result  of  courageous  innocence  and  conscious  virtue. 

SIR  CHARLES.  What  can  it  mean  ?     He  amazes  me  ! 

HARD.  I  told  you  how  it  would  be.     Hush  ! 

MARL.  I  am  now  determined  to  stay,  madam  ;  and  I 
have  too  good  an  opinion  of  my  father's  discernment, 
when  he  sees  you,  to  doubt  his  approbation. 

Miss  HARD.  No,  Mr.  Marlow,  I  will  not,  cannot 
detain  you.  Do  you  think  I  could  suffer  a  con- 
nection in  which  there  is  the  smallest  room  for 
repentance  ?  Do  you  think  I  would  take  the  mean 
advantage  of  a  transient  passion,  to  load  you  with 
confusion  ?  Do  you  think  I  could  ever  relish  that 
happiness  which  was  acquired  by  lessening  yours  ? 

MARL.  By  all  that's  good,  I  can  have  no  happiness 
but  what's  in  your  power  to  grant  me.  Nor  shall 
I  ever  feel  repentance,  but  in  not  having  seen  your 
merits  before.  I  will  stay,  even  contrary  to  your 
wishes ;  and  though  you  should  persist  to  shun  me, 
I  will  make  my  respectful  assiduities  atone  for  the 
levity  of  my  past  conduct. 

Miss  HARD.  Sir,  I  must  entreat  you  '11  desist.  As  our 
acquaintance  began,  so  let  it  end,  in  indifference. 
I  might  have  given  an  hour  or  two  to  levity ;  but 
seriously,  Mr.  Marlow,  do  you  think  I  could  ever 
submit  to  a  connection  where  /  must  appear  merce- 
190 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

nary,  and  you  imprudent?  Do  you  think  I  could 
ever  catch  at  the  confident  addresses  of  a  secure 
admirer  ? 

MARL.  [Kneeling.]  Does  this  look  like  security? 
Does  this  look  like  confidence  ?  No,  madam  ;  every 
moment  that  shows  me  your  merit  only  serves  to 
increase  my  diffidence  and  confusion.  Here  let  me 
continue 

SIR  CHARLES.  I  can  hold  it  no  longer.  Charles, 
Charles,  how  hast  thou  deceived  me !  Is  this  your 
indifference,  your  uninteresting  conversation  ? 

HARD.  Your  cold  contempt — your  formal  interview? 
What  have  you  to  say  now  ? 

MARL.  That  I  'm  all  amazement !     What  can  it  mean  ? 

HARD.  It  means,  that  you  can  say  and  unsay  things 
at  pleasure.  That  you  can  address  a  lady  in  private, 
and  deny  it  in  public ;  that  you  have  one  story  for 
us,  and  another  for  my  daughter. 

MARL.  Daughter  !  this  lady  your  daughter ! 

HARD.  Yes,  sir,  my  only  daughter ;  my  Kate.  Whose 
else  should  she  be  ? 

MARL.  Oh ! 

Miss  HARD.  Yes,  sir,  that  very  identical  tall,  squinting 
lady  you  were  pleased  to  take  me  for.  [Curtseying.] 
She  that  you  addressed  as  the  mild,  modest,  senti- 
mental man  of  gravity,  and  the  bold,  forward, 
agreeable  Rattle  of  the  ladies'  club  ;  ha !  ha !  ha  1 

MARL.  Zounds,  there's  no  bearing  this;  it's  worse 
than  death. 

Miss  HARD.  In  which  of  your  characters,  sir,  will 

191 


x)oes  f/ti's  look  like  security?      i)oes  /fas  look 
like  confidence? 


sc.  i.]         She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

you  give  us  leave  to  address  you  ?  As  the  faltering 
gentleman,  with  looks  on  the  ground,  that  speaks 
just  to  be  heard,  and  hates  hypocrisy ;  or  the  loud 
confident  creature,  that  keeps  it  up  with  Mrs. 
Mantrap,  and  old  Miss  Biddy  Buckskin,  till  three  in 
the  morning?  Ha!  ha  I  ha! 

MARL.  Oh, my  noisy  head  !     I  never  attempted  to 

be  impudent  yet,  that  I  was  not  taken  down.  I 
must  be  gone. 

HARD.  By  the  hand  of  my  body,  but  you  shall  not.  I 
see  it  was  all  a  mistake,  and  I  am  rejoiced  to  find  it. 
You  shall  not,  sir,  I  tell  you.  I  know  she  '11  forgive 
you.  Won't  you  forgive  him,  Kate  ?  We  '11  all 
forgive  you.  Take  courage,  man. 
[They  retire,  she  tormenting  him,  to  the  back  scene. 

Enter  MRS.  HARDCASTLE.     TONY. 

MRS.  HARD.  So,  so,  they  're  gone  off.     Let  them  go, 

I  care  not. 
HARD.  Who  gone  ? 
MRS.  HARD.  My  dutiful  niece  and  her  gentleman,  Mr. 

Hastings,  from  town.     He  who  came  down  with  our 

modest  visitor  here. 
SIR  CHARLES.  Who,  my  honest  George  Hastings  ?    As 

worthy  a  fellow  as  lives  ;  and  the  girl  could  not  have 

made  a  more  prudent  choice. 
HARD.  Then,  by  the  hand  of  my  body,  I  'm  proud  of 

the  connection. 
MRS.  HARD.  Well,  if  he  has  taken  away  the  lady,  he 

195 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer       [ACT  v. 

has  not  taken  her  fortune ;  that  remains  in  this 
family,  to  console  us  for  our  loss. 

HARD.  Sure,  Dorothy,  you  would  not  be  so  mer- 
cenary. 

MRS.  HARD.  Ay,  that 's  my  affair,  not  yours. 

HARD.  But  you  know,  if  your  son,  when  of  age,  refuses 
to  marry  his  cousin,  her  whole  fortune  is  then  at  her 
own  disposal. 

MRS.  HARD.  Ay,  but  he 's  not  of  age,  and  she  has  not 
thought  proper  to  wait  for  his  refusal. 

Enter  HASTINGS  and  Miss  NEVILLE. 

MRS.  HARD.  [Aside.]  What  I  returned  so  soon.  I 
begin  not  to  like  it. 

HAST.  [To  HARDCASTLE.]  For  my  late  attempt  to  fly 
off  with  your  niece,  let  my  present  confusion  be  my 
punishment.  We  are  now  come  back,  to  appeal  from 
your  justice  to  your  humanity.  By  her  father's 
consent,  I  first  paid  her  my  addresses,  and  our 
passions  were  first  founded  on  duty. 

Miss  NEV.  Since  his  death,  I  have  been  obliged  to 
stoop  to  dissimulation  to  avoid  oppression.  In  an 
hour  of  levity,  I  was  ready  even  to  give  up  my 
fortune  to  secure  my  choice.  But  I  am  now 
recovered  from  the  delusion,  and  hope,  from  your 
tenderness,  what  is  denied  me  from  a  nearer 
connection. 

MRS.  HARD.  Pshaw,    pshaw!     this    is    all    but    the 
whining  end  of  a  modern  novel. 
196 


sc.  i.]          She  Stoops  to   Conquer 

HARD.  Be  it  what  it  will,  I  'm  glad  they  're  come  back 
to  reclaim  their  due.  Come  hither,  Tony  boy. 
Do  you  refuse  this  lady's  hand  whom  I  now  offer 
you? 

TONY.  What  signifies  my  refusing?  You  know  I 
can't  refuse  her  till  I  'm  of  age,  father. 

HARD.  While  I  thought  concealing  your  age,  boy, 
was  likely  to  conduce  to  your  improvement,  I 
concurred  with  your  mother's  desire  to  keep  it 
secret.  But  since  I  find  she  turns  it  to  a  wrong  use, 
I  must  now  declare  you  have  been  of  age  these  three 
months. 

TONY.  Of  age  1     Am  I  of  age,  father  ? 

HARD.  Above  three  months. 

TONY.  Then  you  '11  see  the  first  use  I  '11  make  of  my 
liberty.  [Taking  Miss  NEVILLE'S  hand] — Witness  all 
men  by  these  presents,  that  I,  Anthony  Lumpkin, 
Esquire,  of  blank  place,  refuse  you,  Constantia 
Neville,  spinster,  of  no  place  at  all,  for  my  true  and 
lawful  wife.  So  Constantia  Neville  may  marry 
whom  she  pleases,  and  Tony  Lumpkin  is  his  own 
man  again. 

SIR  CHARLES.  Oh,  brave  'squire ! 

HAST.  My  worthy  friend  ! 

MRS.  HARD.  My  undutiful  offspring ! 

MARL.  Joy,  my  dear  George  ;  I  give  you  joy  sincerely. 
And  could  I  prevail  upon  my  little  tyrant  here  to  be 
less  arbitrary,  I  should  be  the  happiest  man  alive,  if 
you  would  return  me  the  favour. 

HAST.  [To  Miss  HARDCASTLE.]  Come,  madam,  you 

197 


She  Stoops  to   Conquer       [ACT  v. 

are  now  driven  to  the  very  last  scene  of  all  your 
contrivances.  I  know  you  like  him,  I  'm  sure  he 
loves  you,  and  you  must  and  shall  have  him. 
HARD.  {Joining  their  hands.}  And  I  say  so  too.  And, 
Mr.  Marlow,  if  she  makes  as  good  a  wife  as  she 
has  a  daughter,  I  don't  believe  you'll  ever  repent 
your  bargain.  So  now  to  supper.  To-morrow 
we  shall  gather  all  the  poor  of  the  parish  about 
us ;  and  the  mistakes  of  the  night  shall  be  crowned 
with  a  merry  morning.  So,  boy,  take  her;  and 
as  you  have  been  mistaken  in  the  mistress,  my 
wish  is,  that  you  may  never  be  mistaken  in  the 
wife. 


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JJPR-61956VJ 

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21  Ma/5  70S 

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1  3   1957 


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